


Wolves have Claws

by Sheets_of_Empty_Canvas



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-12 21:23:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 79,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4495242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheets_of_Empty_Canvas/pseuds/Sheets_of_Empty_Canvas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU- In this story Bran is never pushed from the tower, and never saw what he saw. This causes certain aspects of the story to change. Catelyn never takes Tyrion prisoner. Eddard doesn't trust Littlefinger in King's Landing. How does this alter the events in Westeros?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

Author's Notes.

The first version of this story is up on Fanfiction.net. This is the re-worked version of the same story. I am trying out the new version here before posting it over on the other site. If you have read this on the other site, know that it has the same overall arch, but certain aspects I have changed, pretty significantly actually.

There are more characters and different pairings than what is in the description, I just can't think of all of them right now.

 I am not an English major, so there may be some errors here or there or everywhere, HA! But I did try. *I do not refer to myself as a writer.*

George R.R. Martin owns all rights.

 

 

One

Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of the North, sat in his Solar in the Tower of the Hand. A year has gone by since the day King Robert of the House Baratheon proclaimed him Hand of the King. King’s Landing was the last place he ever would’ve wanted to call home. He missed waking up every morning and walking through the quiet of the Godswood. He missed listening to the leaves whisper to each other through the wind. He missed walking through the grounds of Winterfell, and hearing the sounds of all his children playing. He missed his wife Catelyn, and her red Tully hair. He missed the North.

Today, those days were just a memory. Now, instead of feeling that cold fresh air, and joy of his family, he must deal with the worst scum this Realm has to offer. King’s Landing may be the Capital city of Westeros, but the only residents who call it home are beggars, schemers, plotters, and backstabbers. Eddard Stark is a soldier, a man of honor, he despises the Game of Thrones and hates all its players.

It had been seventeen years since the Rebellion. Seventeen years since Robert Baratheon won the Crown for the Mad King Aryes. Seventeen years since the Targaryen dynasty was crushed. King Robert Baratheon was Eddard Stark’s longtime friend, a friend that he considered a brother. They grew up together under the foster care of their surrogate father, Jon Arryn, the Lord of the Vale, and Warden of the East.

It has been a little over a year since the day Jon Arryn passed away in his sleep. He still remembered the day when he heard the news. _Dark wings, dark words_. A fever had taken Jon Arryn in his sleep, and the King had ridden to Winterfell with all of the court. He had known at once what his old friend was after. Ned had wanted to refuse the King outright. He had always known what King’s Landing was, a nest of rats. He didn’t belong here, he belonged in the North. Though in the end, it was his honor that prevailed. It was his duty to serve the crown. But that’s not all that drove him south. A rider in the night arrived at Winterfell with a letter sent by the widow of Jon Arryn, and Catelyn’s sister Lysa. She had sent a letter saying the Lannister’s were to blame for the death of Jon Arryn.

This was damning a damning accusation. Cersei Lannister was Robert’s Queen. Her twin brother, Jaime Lannister, was one of Robert’s Kingsguard. If the letter held true, then Robert, his boyhood friend, a friend he loved like a brother was in terrible danger, and thus he went.

When he had first arrived in the city of King’s Landing. Finding out more about this Lannister plot had been his primary focus. The Queen was a vicious woman, he gathered that much right away on the Kingsroad. The Queen had ordered the execution of Lady, his daughter Sansa’s beloved direwolf after there was an altercation with the crown-prince Joffrey on the Kingsroad. His two daughters, Arya, and Sansa, were still at odds with each other since that incident happened on that fateful day.

He hadn’t realized how much influence the Queen had over Robert. Not until that day on the Kingsroad. The Queen had even convinced her husband to name Jaime Lannister the Warden of the East, instead of giving the title to Jon Arryn’s young son, and heir to the Eyrie, Robin Arryn. This needed to change, he had needed to convince Robert of his folly, and pray that the man he once knew was still in there somewhere.

Yet life as the Hand of the King is not a job without other responsibilities. There were also a number of outstanding issues to take care of for the Realm. One in particular was outstanding was the fact that the Crown had fallen under a massive debt under the reign of King Robert. His boyhood friend seemed to only ever stop being a boy when he was in a fight. The Crown was in considerable debt to many financiers, one chief among these were none other than Lord Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock, the Warden of the West, and the father of the Queen.

It immediately became apparent that Robert had no idea what ruling meant. He spent his days as he always had, drinking, whoring, hunting, and then drinking again. After a short time in the capital the King had organized a grand tourney, the Tourney of the Hand, in honor of his coronation as Hand of the King. He was against having the Tourney all-together, it was far too expensive, but the King insisted, and he seldom didn’t get his way. But what came after the tourney is what had made him forget about the King all together.

Robert had formed a plot in the small council to have Daenerys Targaryen and her unborn child assassinated. The girl was little more than a child, the war had long been over and still, the man clutched his anger for the Targaryens like it was some kind of cure. Everyone in the council agreed with the King to have, save for Ser Barristan Selmy and himself. Everyone too afraid to tell the King no. He refused to take part in the killing of an innocent girl who was little more than a child. He had been so angry with Robert, the two had gotten into a legendary shouting match that day. It was so loud all of King's Landing must have heard their voices. After that, he no longer cared to listen to anything this Mad King Robert had to say. The Robert he grew up with, would never condone the killing of an innocent mother and child. Right then he realized the man he knew was long gone, and this Robert was not worth saving. He turned in his badge, and left the city taking all of his household with him, Arya, Sansa, everyone.

 

Moving a company of their size was very slow going. It took them over a month to cross the neck, and near another before they had come to Castle Cerwyn. Castle Cerwyn was the seat of House Cerwyn loyal Bannerman to House Stark. Castle Cerwyn itself was a smaller keep with spiked walls of thick wooden tree trunks. A stone wall had been constructed behind the tree trunks to make the castle easier to man. The whole of the castle was surrounded by a large moat with only a single narrow wooden bridge connecting the keep to the small village that rested outside its walls.

Castle Cerwyn was only a half day's ride to Winterfell, although with the extra wagons, carriages, and belongings, that half day ride could easily take longer. Lord Medgar Cerwyn was kind enough to allow their company safe harbor behind his walls and a place to stop and rest in his keep. They were to stay for the night before making the final stretch home, to Winterfell. Or at least that had been his plan.

* * *

 

_It was late at night, Ned was asleep in the chambers he was staying in Castle Cerwyn. It was the first night he had been able to sleep well in a long time. The cold winds of the North in his face had been welcomed against his skin. He had been in a quiet slumber thinking about seeing his wife Catelyn and his boys. He wanted to see how much better Robb had gotten with the sword, and how he’s handled being lord of Winterfell in his absence. He wanted to see how much taller Rickon has gotten in the time they’ve spent apart._

_He was dreaming of tomorrow and finally reuniting with his family when there was a sudden knocking at his chamber door. He lifted his head from the pillow, and rubbed his eyes as another knocking came pounding on the door, more urgently this time._

_“My lord, the King is approaching the castle,” Jory Cassel the captain of his household guard said from outside his door._

_“The King!?” Ned choked out, forcing himself to reality. What was the King doing this far North? The argument the two had in the small council was now coming back to the forefront of his mind. He quickly shot to his feet, putting on his cured studded leather doublet and trousers._

_“Yes, my lord, he is outside the gate. Lord Medgar has yet to allow him in. He is awaiting your command,”_

_Lord Medgar Cerwyn was making the King wait on his behalf. Robert wouldn’t like that, perhaps there will be a fight. Ned grabbed his Valyrian steel greatsword Ice, and slung the heavy sheathed sword over his back._

_Ned opened the door and walked with purpose out to greet the King. “Wake the girls, prepare them to make haste for Winterfell. We may have to leave at a moment's notice,” Ned told Jory. His guard captain nodded, and went to do as instructed._

_As Ned walked quickly down the hall members of his household guard soon fell into step with him. He arrived out into the courtyard where Lord Medgar and his men were waiting for him at the gates. The rest of Ned’s personal guard was there as well, all awaiting him._

_“Open this gate in the name of your King!” He heard Robert bellow loudly. It was late at night and the cast iron gatehouse built around the entranceway still remained closed._

_Ned looked at the gate and the burning torches that showed all of mounted knights, and soldiers behind the iron. He counted at least a dozen men carrying the King’s banner of the crowned Stag, the sigil of House Baratheon._

_Ned walked up to the gates next to Lord Medgar Cerwyn who bowed his head to him with respect. Lord Cerwyn was a soft-spoken man with a graying beard, and gray eyes. “My lord,” Medgor said to him in question. The night was dark, but he could see Robert was wearing his antlered war helm he always wore into battle. Though his face was plump and massive belly made him far less threatening than he had in his youth, he knew Robert could still lift a hammer if forced to. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Ser Barristan Selmy was next to King on back a white horse._

_“Dammit Ned, I demand you open these gates!” Robert bellowed again. The King’s face was redder than the reddest wine in the Arbor against the flames of the torches. It wouldn’t be long before Robert took out his Warhammer and smashed the gates down himself._

_“If I open the gates you must swear not to take up arms against any of my men!” Ned answered back to him._

_“Seven Hells! I am the King Ned. If I say I want to come in then I will come in! This is still part of MY Kingdom!” Robert shouted again._

_“Swear you will not harm any of my men Robert,” Ned restated reaching a hand behind his back to grip the pommel of Ice._

_“I didn’t ride this far North just to piss myself in front of this bloody gate! Open it or I swear I will knock it down! Robert answered_

_Ned turned to Lord Cerwyn and motioned for him to do as the King commanded._

_“Open the gate!” Lord Medgar shouted. The metal churned and cranked up slowly. Robert and his company then rode in immediately after the gates when up. All of the men with him were mounted, though it wasn’t near as many as Ned thought would be with the King. Only about twenty men accompanied the King all of which were Baratheon soldiers, and only two knights of the Kingsguard. Ser Barristan Selmy, and Ser Preston Greenfield._

_Robert and his company rode on their horses and circled around the courtyard a few times before the King finally dismounted from his horse. His two Kingsguard dismounted as well, and walked closely behind the King, while the rest of the men all stayed on their horses. Ned looked around silently hoping that Jory could somehow get his girls out of the castle if this turned into a battle._

_“What do you want Robert?” Ned said firmly to the King, whom he once considered a brother. But that man was gone now, only broken, and drunken shadow remained._

_“I’ve come for you Ned, to bring you back to King’s Landing,” Robert said loudly walking right up to him._

_Ned eyed the two Kingsguards, Ser Preston Greenfield had a hand on the pommel of his sword, while Ser Barristan only nodded his head to Ned respectfully._

_“For what? To put my head on a spike?” Ned responded back at him repeating what the King said to him in the council chambers. Lord Medgar, and his own men had hands on the pommel of their own swords ready for his order._

_“The girl Robert, what did you do with the girl!?” Eddard said firmly back to him. As far as he was concerned nothing had changed. Robert had ordered and assassination of a girl who was only a year younger than Robb._

_Robert took off his helm and held it underneath his arm. “Let’s talk Ned, in private, just you and me,” He spoke calmly._

_Ned looked at him slightly put off. Ned then turned towards Lord Medgar silently telling him to stand down. “Let’s go to the hall, then,” Ned said to the King._

_The two men then walked back towards the keep in silence, leaving the rest of the men to wait outside in an awkward state._

_The great hall of Castle Cerwyn was small and ill lit. Only a few torch sconces hung on the walls. The great seat sat in the back in front of a window in the shape of the Cerwyn battle-axe. The moonlight shined through the window, making the hall glow brighter than it normally would at this late hour. Neither man said a word as they walked, only the sound of their heavy footsteps against the hard stone floor could be heard._

_Instead of going for the great seat, Robert took a seat at the table in the center of the hall where a handful of candles were burning. Robert put his Warhammer down on the table, resting it on the aging wood. “Mayhaps he does want to talk after all,” Ned thought silently to himself._

_Ned sat down on the opposite side of the table, placing Ice besides Robert’s Warhammer. Ned silently remembered how many times those two weapons fought side-by-side, crushing everything in their path._

_Robert leaned forward over the table. His thick black beard revealing itself over the candlelight. Ned put his elbows on the table, and began to crack his knuckles._

_“I want you back Ned, I need you as my Hand,” Robert said cutting right to the chase._

_“The Targaryen girl Robert. What did you do with Daenerys Targaryen?” Ned responded coldly._

_Robert looked at the fire burning between them, then glanced quickly to his Warhammer. He was being far calmer than Ned would have anticipated. Robert hadn’t even asked for wine before beginning, which was a first. Perhaps the Northern air was effecting the King as well._

_“Varys did as I instructed. He sent his spiders to carry my will . . . but there has been no word since. We don’t know if the girl lives, or does not live.” Robert said looked back at him, his voice remaining calm and even the entire time._

_Ned gave him a disappointed look, and turned away. He was unable to look this man in his eye. Nothing had changed, he had still funded cold-blooded murder. As far as he was concerned, Cersei could  do whatever she wanted to Robert. As long as she left his own family out of her affairs, she could play whatever game she wanted to play, he no longer cared._

_“Don’t look at me like that Ned, you may have written me off but some part of me heard what you said that day, about the man I used to be, about the mad King, of Robert Baratheon fearing a little girl.” He paused for a moment looking back down at the flaming candle on the table._

_“After you left, the only thing I ever kept thinking about was your sister. She’s all I ever think about. What would she have thought about pushing you away? What would she have thought about killing the girl? She wouldn’t even look at me if she were alive today, I know it to be true,” Robert said sadly._

_Ned silently nodded his head in agreement with the King. Lyanna would never look Robert in the eye if she were alive to witness him now. Though she couldn’t tolerate him when she was alive either, but that was neither here, nor there._

_“The council, Varys, Littlefinger, Pycelle, my brother, worthless. No one to tell me no but you, only you, and Barristan. They’d all sit there and tell me what I want to hear, rather than be a man and speak their minds. Come back with me, Ned, I need you. I’ve lost my way, I know that now. I swear on the love I bear for your sister, I won’t do such an act to drive you away like that again. If the Targaryen’s come back to Westeros, we’ll face them together, like we always have,” Robert said._

_Ned could hear the sincerity in his voice, and he was nearly tempted to take his offer right then. But he knew Robert better than that. He would say one thing one day, and then do the complete opposite the next. Ned also did not want to return to that rat’s nest of a capital. Not when he was this close to Winterfell._

_“If you want me to return to the capital Robert, you must do more than make me empty promises. I want you to swear to me, here, and now, that you will put more effort into ruling. I need you to attend at least one council meeting a week. This debt the crown is in cannot stand Robert. You must stop with all of the extravagance. Ruling is not meant to be easy. The truth is it’s a burden, a hardship that we must carry for the good of the realm,” Ned told him._

_Robert looked at him with slight annoyance at the thought, but he ultimately nodded his head in agreement. “Fine, if that is what it will take to bring you back then I will do it. I will attend a council meeting once a week I swear it. But if we are to barter, then there is something else I want. I still want our houses tied. When you come back to the capital, the betrothal between Joffrey and Sansa will remain. I want a Stark Queen to a Baratheon King, that is what I want my legacy to be,” Robert said._

_Ned didn’t like it. He knew Joffrey was a mean spirited boy. His mother held the boy too closely, and had more Lannister in him than Baratheon. But perhaps with the proper guidance that could change. Joffrey would one day be King, there was no way around that. He was Robert’s eldest true-born son. Sansa was sweet and beautiful, with all the grace of a proper lady. If Robert was truly being sincere, then there was still a chance to change the boy’s character. Perhaps he could convince Robert to foster the boy in Storm’s End for a time. Knowing what life is like in the Stormlands without the pampering of his mother could help him grow into a better man. More importantly, it would be time separated from Cersei, which was desperately needed._

_“When would you have them wed?” Ned asked him._

_“How old is your girl Ned? Thirteen? Fourteen? Joffrey is sixteen now, they should wed when she can bear his children. Has she bled yet?”_

_Ned didn’t want to answer that question. Sansa had flowered on their way home to Winterfell. She is eligible now to marry Joffrey, now that she could bear children. He didn’t like the idea of Sansa marrying at fourteen. But perhaps here was where he could convince Robert to foster Joffrey elsewhere. “Robert we both know how Joffrey is. He spends too much time with Cersei, he needs to become a man before I will allow him to wed my daughter.” Ned spoke to him._

_“What would you have me do?”_

_“Foster him Robert. Foster him like we were fostered in the Vale. Send him to Storm’s End for a year. Teach him what it means to be a Baratheon. A King should know where his forefather’s come from. After he fosters there for a year, then, and only then, will I allow her to wed him.”_

_Robert groaned at the thought. “Do you know what you ask? Cersei doesn’t let that boy shit without her knowledge.”_

_“Which is exactly why he needs to be away from her Robert. You know I am right. You are the King Robert, she can’t stop you from doing this.”_

_“No, but she can make my life a living hell. But she does that anyway. So, is this it? Is this what it will take to bring you back?”_

_“Yes. Do this, and I will return with you to King’s Landing. Attend the council meetings with me, and send your boy to foster in Storm’s End, and I will betroth my daughter to your son again. Promise me this, swear on your honor, and your love for my sister, and I will return with you as Hand of the King.”_

_Robert thought long and hard. It may be too much to ask of him, but it was the only way he would feel comfortable returning to the Capital. Robert finally looked back up at him, and then he loudly clapped his hands. “Deal. Cersei will throw a fit, but I don’t care. I want you back Ned, and if this is what it will take then so be it. We’ll get it right this time, I swear it,” Robert said extending his hand out over the burning candle on the table._

_Ned nodded his head, and shook the King’s hand. “First I-“ Ned began but Robert cut him off._

_“Yes, yes, you want to see your wife. We’ll head out to Winterfell on the morrow. We’ll stay a fortnight, or two, or three, if you wish. I know how much you have missed your family. As for mine, the longer I’m away from them the better,” Robert said with a laugh._

_Ned smiled back at him as Robert stood to his feet. “Come Ned let’s make sure our men aren’t at each other’s throats out there, and can we get some bloody wine in here!?” Robert said with that infectious laugh and smile that he had grown to love._

* * *

**A/N.**

Thanks for reading if you've made it this far. The ages of some of the characters will be different. Yes, I've aged up many of the characters in this story.  Next chapter will be up soon, if you are interested.

Cheers


	2. Two

**Two**

 

They had arrived back in King’s Landing a month ago. They had stayed in Winterfell for a long while. King Robert, and his company had spent nearly three months in Winterfell with him. Robert being far removed from the intrigue, and politics of King’s Landing seemed far more relaxed. Or, it may simply have been because he was away from his own family. It was refreshing to see this Robert again. The man he had grown up with was starting to emerge again without the shadow of the capital looming over him. Robert had spent much time with Ned’s sons, Robb, Bran, and Rickon. They spent many days together training in the yard, hunting in the wolfswood, and of course… drinking. Bran, and Rickon didn’t take part in the latter, but, they still enjoyed the King’s company.

Sansa couldn’t have been happier with the news of being betrothed to Joffrey again. She insisted on moving back to King’s Landing with him. If Sansa was going to be Queen one day, then her place should be in the Capital. What surprised him most was that Arya wanted to go back as well. Upon leaving King’s Landing, Ned had sent her sword instructor, Syrio Forel, back to Braavos. Arya wanted to take up her lessons again. He told her she could continue them in Winterfell, but she wanted to go with him. He always did have a hard time refusing his two little girls, so, she came back as well.

Ned had wanted to bring his ten year old son, Bran, to the capital. Bran wanted to one day become a knight of the Kingsguard. He was going to have him squire for Robert upon returning, but Catelyn was still clinging to him. She still cherished the last few years of his childhood close to her breast. He had let her keep Bran in Winterfell, but, told her that the time would soon come for Bran to leave the nest.

True to his word, the King had attended the council meetings, as promised. Once a week the King had joined him in the meetings. While there in person, Robert was content to sit and drink wine while everyone debated in the small council around him. The only action the King did was sit in his chair and drink. The only time his head perked up from his cup seemed to be when the meetings ended. Even still, his mere presence in the meetings made things easier for him. With Robert now sitting in on meetings, there had been less deliberation, and more action. Yet, not everything that they had agreed to that night in Castle Cerwyn had been fully met.

Somehow, in the time that King spent in Winterfell away from the capital, Queen Cersei had discovered his plan to foster Joffrey in Storm’s End. Joffrey was still being sent away to foster, however, not in Storm’s End. Instead, the Queen, had convinced Robert to send the young prince to Casterly Rock, to foster with his grandfather, Tywin Lannister. He had protested to Robert about it, but the King said he was tired of hearing Cersei wail about sending the boy off. “He’s still being fostered Ned, you got what you wanted.” Robert had said.

He did want Joffrey fostered, but not with the Lannisters. That was the exact opposite of what he had wanted. Yet with Renly serving as Master of Laws on the small council, he was rarely seen in the Stormlands. It was harder to argue against having the crown-prince be raised by the castellan of Storm’s End, rather than the boy’s own grandfather. Ned had suggested if not Storm’s End, then send the boy to Lord Stannis on Dragonstone, the King’s own brother. But Robert held little to no love for his brother Stannis, and had refused to send his son there. Ned couldn’t decide which was worse, having the boy stay in King’s Landing with the pampering of his mother? Or, have him learn from the most ruthless man in the Seven Kingdoms.

This Lannister plot to assassinate Robert hung over Ned’s head like a dark cloud. It was constantly on his mind, but he had no real proof of foul play. Now with Joffrey headed to Casterly Rock the anxiety he felt was increasing with each passing day. The only whispers he heard about the plot were told to him by a spider, a spider, that he did not trust. The first time Ned arrived in the capital, Lord Varys, the King’s Master of Whispers had come to him in the dead of night. He told him the Lannisters tried to have King Robert killed in the melee of the Hand’s tournament. This echoed Lysa’s warning about how the Lannisters were to blame for Jon Arryn’s death. It had been nearly a year since Ned had first come to the capital, and now that he was back, he knew it was only a matter of time before they tried to do it again. He needed to find proof of what they were up to, and why, before he ran out of time.

Ned sat alone in his solar. The night was dark, and windy. The stars and moon were covered by thick grey clouds. The city was shrouded in a musky mist, and the humidity made him sweat through his cloth shirt. The rains were coming any minute, but they refused to fall, and the city was feeling the hot humidity. Ned had closed his shudders in an attempt to keep the mist, and stench out of his room. He was currently looking over the book of the lineages and histories of the houses of Westeros. He was still trying to decipher what Jon Arryn had been looking for in this book. It was a mystery to what he might find hidden amongst these pages. He turned the page to the House Baratheon when there was a sudden knocking at his chamber door.

“A man to see you, my lord.” Harwin his guard said from outside his door. “He will not give his name.” Harwin continued. Normally Ned would have Jory stationed there, but he had sent Jory to Dragonstone with a letter addressed to Stannis Baratheon. He was requesting Stannis to come back to the capital to serve on the small council. The King needed his Master of Ships here in King’s Landing, and not far removed isolated on Dragonstone. He was also hoping Lord Stannis would help him with his search for proof against the Lannisters.

“Let him in,” Ned said while closing the old, heavy, and dusty book.

The man in question entered the room slowly. He wore a heavy brown robe, his hands drawn up in volumes of sleeves, and a cowl covered his head obscuring his face. Ned nodded his head to Harwin silently telling him to close the door. Harwin reluctantly obeyed eyeing the cowled man suspiciously.

“I was wondering when you would come to me.” Ned said to the figure standing before him.

The man removed his cowl, revealing, Lord Varys, the King’s Master of whisperers. The round plump man smiled, and bowed his hairless head to him. “I apologize for not coming to you sooner, Lord Stark, but discretion is best met with precaution.”

Ned folded his hands together, and rested his elbows on the table, eyeing him expectantly. “Are you here about the new tax law?” Ned asked. He wondered how quickly word of it has spread around the Kingdoms. They had signed it into law yesterday morning. Ned had come up with a new higher tax rate on the nobility of the entire realm. The tax rate would increase an additional ten percent until the crown could balance its budget. That ten percent would strictly go towards repaying the loans the crown owed. It would be very unpopular he knew, no one likes paying more taxes, but they had to get their economy moving again. A Kingdom without a functioning economy is bound to crumble into ruin, and drastic action needed to be taken.

Varys must have some kind of news about it if he were to visit him this late at night. “Yes, and no. This new tax will no doubt cause much anger, and no small amount of hostility. You must be prepared for the backlash, it may appear in places that you may not be able to see right away.”

Varys moved further into the room, cautiously eyeing the book on his desk. Ned motioned for him to sit down in the chair across from him. “I was right about you all along Lord Stark. You truly are a man of honor. I have met so few in my life, I seldom know what they look like. The King has attended more council meetings in this month alone, than he had in the past seventeen years. This new tax law can truly be a start to fixing our economy. That is of course if you are capable of keeping everyone in line. Though with your stalwart leadership, I am certain you are up to that task.” Varys spoke with admiration in his voice.

Ned narrowed his eyes at him slightly, the eunuch was trying to butter him up for something. If he’s learned anything in his time here in the Capital, it’s that everyone has an ulterior motive.

“Your adamant refusal to kill Daenerys Targaryen was on I admired, more than you know.” Varys said with the most sincere tone of voice he’s ever heard leaving the eunuch’s mouth.

Ned gave him a suspicious look. Lord Varys was one of the council members who had agreed to have the girl killed. “You have a strange way of showing it. Why did you agree to send assassins to kill her if you hold value on the girl’s life?” Ned spoke coldly.

“I am a spider my lord. I work from the shadows. I have no lands to retreat to if I were to oppose a King. No loyal Bannermen to come to my aid, no legendary castle to keep me safe. I only have whispers, and we all do what we must to survive, even if it’s against what we most believe in.” Varys said.

Ned eyed him warily, and was growing impatient. He wanted to know why Varys was here. “The last time you came to me in the dead of the night, you told me that the Lannister’s plot to kill the King,” Ned spoke softly. Even hear in his chambers, the highest point in all the capital, he was cautious not to speak too loudly. “What news will you bring me tonight? Is it proof this time, or am I to guess your purpose here?” Ned said.

Varys gave him a sad smile. “Unfortunately, proof, is not my trade. I am the master of whispers my lord, and whispers, are all I have.”

“Then what do you come to me with?” Ned asked.

“A proposal, my lord Stark. One that I think will be advantageous to us all. We know the Queen plots to kill her husband, our King, the only question is how, and when. The best we can do is prepare ourselves for when that time does come.” Varys said in a low voice.

Ned eyed him with a cautiously curious look. He leaned forward in his seat, and nodded his head silently urging Varys to continue.

Varys leaned forward over the table as well, keeping his hands in his lap underneath his large sleeves. “There is a wealthy, and powerful house in the South who, from what my little birds tell me, have desires on the capital.” He spoke in a low voice.

Ned narrowed his eyes at him, wondering where he was going with this. “The Reach is the most fertile land in Westeros, and is home to one of the largest navies. Mace Tyrell has long desired to have more power, and influence, here in the capital. Lord Stannis Baratheon’s behavior is becoming increasingly erratic. He has become a recluse on Dragonstone. He refuses to return to the capital to serve on the small council. They also tell me that he’s taken a red priestess from asshai as an advisor. The King needs a Master of Ships in King’s Landing, and not isolated on an island. You could stand to create a powerful ally if you were to appoint, Mace Tyrell, the new Master of Ships.

Ned shook his head, and sat back in his chair slightly agitated by the suggestion. “Lord Stannis is the King’s own blood. He is a proven battle commander, and he has led men into victory. His loyalty to the crown is unquestioned. Mace Tyrell is a coward, and House Tyrell has never earned anything on their own. Why would I even consider this?”

Varys gave him a sad smile. “Because my Lord Stark, you are at war already, whether you want to admit it or not, you are at war. It may not be the sort that you are used to, since it cannot be quelled with a swing of that legendary Valyrian Steel greatsword of yours. This war is played in the shadows. This new tax will be very unpopular throughout the entire realm, and will no doubt cause consequences unforeseen to the both of us. Many may plot to overthrow you, or even plot to have you killed because of it. You will want the Warden of the South on your side, and not among those plotting to depose you.”

Ned rubbed the scruff of his beard, thinking about it. He still didn’t like the idea. Mace Tyrell was weak willed, and only thought of himself. If he were to appoint him as Master of Ships, the Lord of Highgarden would have control of by far the realms strongest navy. With both the Royal Navy, and Redwyne Fleet under his command, House Tyrell, would be uncontested in the seas. He didn’t like the idea of giving that man, that kind of power. Though Varys was right, the Tyrells could prove to be problematic if they did not comply with the new tax law.

“Like every war, you need allies. Tell me, my lord Stark, how would Robert’s rebellion have gone if you not had the Riverlands on your side? Your father understood the importance of alliances, and it is why he chose to marry his children off to the other great houses of the realm.” Varys spoke again.

Ned was always of the belief that if his father had never betrothed Lyanna to Robert, then perhaps none of the madness that followed would have happened in the first place. But Varys did have a point, this new tax would ruffle many feathers everywhere. It may be enough to tinder thoughts of another rebellion. But a bankrupt Crown could do much of the same thing. A war was coming, Robert could feel it, he could feel it, and winter is coming. “This is your proposal, then, to bring the Reach into the fold. How do you plan on keeping their allegiances loyal to the Crown?”

Varys gave him a strange smile. “I would have them loyal to you, my lord Stark. An alliance on paper is doomed from the start, for it is too easily discarded. The alliance I propose, is one signed in blood.”

* * *

 

Robb Stark the seventeen year old heir to Winterfell was out in the training yard practicing his sword work. Robb Stark was a handsome young lad who took after his mother Catelyn in appearance. He had the famous steel blue eyes, and dark red-brown hair of the Tullys.

He was currently being instructed with his sword work by Ser Rodrick Cassel, Winterfell's master-of-arms. Ser Rodrick was an older stout, large man with gray-white hair who has served the Starks loyally for many years.

Robb was sparring with his friend, and ward of Winterfell, Theon Greyjoy. Theon Greyjoy was the last living son, and heir, of Balon Greyjoy Lord of Pyke, and ruler of the Iron Islands. Theon was a lean, and handsome lad of twenty years with dark brown hair. Not long after King Robert’s Rebellion, Balon Greyjoy had rebelled against the Iron Throne, and had proclaimed himself King of the Iron Islands. King Robert had smashed this rebellion, and Robb’s lord father, Eddard Stark, took the young Greyjoy as his ward, and raised him in his home to put an end to another uprising. In the following years, Robb, and Theon had developed a close friendship. They ate together, rode together, trained together, and fought together, and today was no different.

"Good, now move your feet." Ser Roderick Cassel instructed as Robb parried one of Theon's lunges.

Robb was a skilled swordsman, both quick and powerful. He had been training with the sword for as long as he could remember. Robb did as instructed, he advanced quickly and directly towards Theon’s position, trying to overwhelm him through brute strength. Theon brought his sword up trying to keep back Robb’s hard swings. But he had trouble staying balanced with Robb’s direct attack, and started backpedaling trying to keep from being overwhelmed.

The dirt in the training yard was somewhat damp from yesterday’s rains. The wet dirt made it harder to keep balanced, Robb used this to his advantage. He pressed forward staying on the attack keeping Theon at his heels. With a heavy swing, Robb brought his training sword down hard with a fierce overhand slash. The clanging of the blunted blades rung out loudly in the courtyard. Robb and Theon’s blades were locked together in a test of strength. Robb held the greater position as he held Theon’s blade down towards the ground. Theon tried to force Robb off by pivoting his feet, he stepped back and gave Robb a quick hack, but he wasn’t quick enough. Robb had anticipated Theon’s move, and easily parried his hack, and in one quick motion slashed Theon across the chest. The force of the blunted blade caused Theon to slightly stumble and stagger, but not completely fall down. Robb did not relent in his assault, the adrenaline in his system had taken hold of him. With another hard forehand slash, he caught Theon again, this time at the ribs. The force of his swing sent Theon crashing down onto the wet dirt hard.

"Seven Hells!" Theon groaned loudly sitting in the mud, while he clutched his ribs in pain.

"Sorry Greyjoy, still not quick enough," Robb said, extending his hand out to help Theon back up.

Theon shook his head in agitation, and gave Robb an annoyed look, but accepted his hand anyway. "Where did that come from? That was the quickest I’ve ever seen you move.” Theon said, wiping the wet dirt off his leather training armor.

“I don’t know, just letting out some aggression from this morning I guess.” Robb said trying to regain his composure. He had lost himself there for a moment in the rush of adrenaline.

Theon hunched over slightly clutching his ribs in pain. Although they were using blunted blades, a sword was still a sword, and it still fucking hurt. “Whatever that was, it worked well for you.” Theon said through a groan of pain.

“Not so much for you,” Robb said, punching Theon in the chest not lightly.

"Shit," Theon cried out, slightly bending over and grabbing his chest. Robb laughed playfully as he gave Ser Rodrick back his practice sword.

"You may be better with the sword, but I'm still the better archer," Theon replied trying to save some of his pride.

“No arguments here, at least you finally admit I’m better with the blade,” Robb answered him. Though Robb still wasn’t as good as Jon Snow, his bastard brother; who was now a member of the Night’s Watch. He remembered all the times Jon had bested him here in this very training yard. He wondered how much better Jon had gotten with the blade up on the Wall. Tomorrow was the day, tomorrow he would do it, he was finally going to do it. He was going to go up to his mother, and tell her he was going to the Wall to see Jon. It had been over a year, and it was long past time he went to visit him.

Robb, and Theon, both thanked Ser Rodrick for the instruction, and started walking together towards the stables. The castle of Winterfell was a very large castle complex that spanned many acres. The stables were located by the southern gate. Robb wanted to go out riding before it got too dark. The cold wind in his face always helped him clear his head, which he had been trying to do since this morning’s hearing. The hearing had been the main reason why he had been so ruthless during the training exercise. With his father in King’s Landing, now serving as Hand of the King, many of the lordship duties of Winterfell had fallen onto his shoulders. His whole life he had been trained to assume this role, but he hadn’t realized how hard it was until he sat in that chair.

Today had been far and away the hardest day he’s had as acting Lord of Winterfell. His lord father, Eddard Stark, Warden of the North, and Hand of the King, by Royal decree, had increased the taxes of the entire realm. The realm would now have to pay an additional ten percent to the crown, the North included.

Many of the northern lords had come to Winterfell in droves to protest against the new increased tax. Robb sat in the Great Hall of Winterfell since sun up with his Lady Mother, Catelyn Stark, and adviser Maester Luwin. The meetings had gone on all day. There had been shouting, cursing, and even threats made to them. In the end they had been able to quell most of the lords outrage, reminding them all of the oaths they took to his father, and to King Robert. They sighted that the taxes were only temporary, and were a necessary evil so the crown could settle its debts.

Robb and Theon arrived at the stables, and were met by Hodor one of Winterfell’s stableboys. Hodor was very large, standing over seven feet tall. He had slow wits, but he was also kind, gentle, and loyal. The only word he could speak was “Hodor”.

“We are going out riding Hodor. Can you ready our horses?” Robb asked him politely.

“Hodor” he responded. He went towards the back of the stables, and began to do as he was bid.

“We should make it quick, the days are starting to grow shorter.” Theon said, he was still clutching his side. Robb had also noticed Theon had been walking gingerly after being hit in the ribs so hard. Robb suddenly felt guilty for being so relentless, he had... lost control of himself.

Robb looked up at the sky, gazing at the now fading sunlight “I know, it won’t be long now, winter is coming. Let’s do a couple laps around the castle. I want to feel the wind on my face,” Robb said. Hodor came over with the two horses now all saddled up and ready to go. Robb put a hand on the horse, and was about to mount it when a voice perked up behind him.

“Can I come!?” Came the high pitched jovial voice of a young boy. Robb turned his head and saw his younger brother, Bran. Bran a boy of eleven had the same famous Tully look of their mother. Bran had the same blue eyes, and red-brown hair as he. Bran was on top of the straw roof of the stables, leaning his head down over the edge looking at them with a bright smile. His long growing hair hung down somewhat obscuring his face.

“You better get down before mother catches you. You know how upset she gets when you do that,” Robb said with a smile to his younger brother. Bran climbed down one of the wooden posts that helped to hold up the stables. When he reached the bottom he looked up at both Robb and Theon with big hopeful eyes.

“So, can I come?” Bran said, completely ignoring the fact that he had gone climbing again. Robb and Theon eyed each other with a smile.

“Yes, you can come,” Robb said.

“Hurray!! Can we race! I bet I’m the fastest rider! I’ve been practicing,” Bran said, rushing past them towards the back of the stables. He grabbed hold of a saddle, trying desperately to lift the heavy object over his shoulders. Hodor came rushing over, and picked up the saddle for Bran so he didn’t have to lift it. Hodor then began readying another horse for Bran to ride.

“Sounds good to me. How about two laps around the castle, the loser. . .” Theon had started to say when they were approached by Maester Luwin.

“I’m sorry boys, but the horse race will have to wait. Lady Stark has requested her children to the Great Hall for supper,” Maester Luwin said.

Robb scowled slightly. He had wanted to go out before his mother called him for supper, but it would appear he hadn’t made it in time. He sighed, and apologized to Hodor for having him do all that work for nothing.

“Aww! But I wanted to go riding!!” Bran cried out.

“Another time Bran,” Maester Luwin said kindly. The small old gray man walked slowly towards Theon and put a hand on his shoulder. “Let me have a look at your ribs,” Maester Luwin said to him.

Theon shook his head stubbornly. “I’m fine Maester Luwin, it doesn’t hurt,” he said.

The old and wise Maester wasn’t convinced. “Come Greyjoy, before I inform Lady Catelyn on who you invited into your chambers last night,”

Theon’s eyes went wide, and he turned slightly red. Robb smiled knowingly at him. It would seem Theon had snuck, Ros, the red headed whore from winter town into his room again last night. Theon begrudgingly walked off with Maester Luwin to have his rib injury treated.

“Who did Theon bring into his room last night?” Bran asked, looking up at him, his eyes full of questions.

Robb silently laughed at Bran. He wondered how he would react if he told him the truth. Would he be able to put the pieces together? “I’m not sure, but I'm certain you can ask him after supper,” Robb said which seem to satisfy Bran’s curiosity for now. He would like to see Theon explain that one to his younger brother.

“Race you to the Great Keep,” Robb said in challenge down to his younger brother.

Bran looked up at him with the hint of a gleam in his eye. They looked at each other for half a second longer before sprinting towards the Great Hall. They ran as fast as they could into the courtyard, dodging the various servants, workers, and guards as they raced. The Great Hall of Winterfell was very large. The outside was enclosed in grey stone and was covered with Direwolf banners of their House. With a final lunge, Bran was the first to make contact with the large and heavy iron and oak doors.

“I win!” Bran said, turning around with a big smile on his face. He had his fists on his hips while puffing out his chest with confidence. Robb had gone slower for him knowing how upset Bran gets when he loses.

“You got me,” Robb said, putting a hand on Bran’s shoulder. “Come, let’s see what mother wants,”

They both entered the Great Hall where they found their mother, Lady Catelyn. She was sitting with their five year old brother, Rickon, who had the same blue eyes, and red brown hair. The servants brought supper to the table. They were carrying over trays of breads, vegetables, and drinks. A large hot plate of mutton was steaming up from the center of the table. Robb, and Bran, both took their seats sitting directly across their mother and Rickon at the table. The smell of the food made Robb’s stomach grumble. He hadn’t eaten anything all day, and he didn’t realize how hungry he was until now.

“Hello mother, you wanted to see us?” Robb said to her politely as he and Bran, both began picking at the food on the table preparing their own plates.

“There is a matter we need to discuss,” Catelyn said, looking directly at him. Robb already had a steamed carrot in his mouth when he looked back up at his mother. The way she looked at him indicated this matter was of great importance.

“Is this about this morning’s hearing. Lord Umber did make quite a scene, but I thought he had agreed to the new tax?” Robb asked, preparing himself for more news of displeased lords.

Their mother held a letter in her hands, and smiled sadly down at it. If he wasn’t mistaken, he could see tears forming at the corner of her eyes. Suddenly a pit formed in his stomach, what could cause her to get upset? “No, it’s not about the taxes. The King is holding a tourney next month in King’s Landing. Your father, has requested you, and Bran, to go to the capital,” She said looking up at them trying to keep the tears from falling down her face.

“A tourney! Really! Me?! I’m going to see father?! In the capital!” Bran said happily with a piece of potato hanging from his mouth.

Their mother rubbed the moisture from her eyes, and smiled at him. “Yes, you’re going to see your father,”

Bran’s smile shined brightly at the table. He looked up at Robb with uncontrollable excitement.

“What about me? I want to see father too!” Rickon pouted from his seat, loudly pounding his fists on the table.

Catelyn put a gentle hand on his shoulder to try and calm him down. “You are too young Rickon. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. I will stay here and look after you,” She said to him lovingly.

“That’s not fair! I never get to go anywhere!” Rickon pouted. His face fell at hearing mother’s words. He quickly jumped up from his seat and ran out of the hall, presumably to go to his chambers. Robb stood to his feet and called after him, but Rickon ignored everyone and kept on running.

“Let him be, I’ll speak with him after supper,” Catelyn spoke softly to them.

“When do we leave mother!?” Bran asked quickly, the smile still had yet to leave his face.

“You leave on the morrow. It is a long road from Winterfell to the capital. You will take sixty men with you on your journey south. It may take the whole month to arrive in King’s Landing, so you must leave at once to get there. . . On time,” Catelyn said, looking at Robb as she spoke.

“Can I bring Summer?” Bran asked hopefully. Not only was the direwolf the sigil of House Stark, each of the boys had their very own direwolf companion. The direwolves when not with the boys liked to play in the Godswood of Winterfell.

“He is your direwolf, he is your responsibility,” Their mother said from across the table.

“Wahoo!!" Bran said happily raising his arms high in the air like he had just won something. “Can I go pack mother? I want to get ready for tomorrow!” Bran continued. He was already halfway out of his chair getting ready to run off.

“Finish your food first, I want to see all of those vegetables eaten,” Catelyn said.

Bran quickly started shoveling all of the vegetables into his mouth, eating all of them as fast as he could. One after the other he piled them in, Robb had never seen his brother eat vegetables with such wild abandon before in his life. It wasn’t long before Bran had finished his plate, drank down his water, and wiped his mouth clean. He then held up his plate to his mother, and opened his mouth wide showing that he was done.

Catelyn smiled at him and nodded her head in acceptance. “Go on,” she said softly. Bran jumped up from his seat and began running to his room to get ready for the journey.

Robb watched him go with a smile, shaking his head at his younger brother. It would seem he was going to King's Landing tomorrow, which meant going to the Wall would have to be put off. . . Again. He should have gone to the Wall much sooner. _I’m sorry Jon._ Robb turned back to his mother, whose face had now grown more serious now that Bran had left.

“Having a Tourney seems odd to me. Why hold a tournament if father is trying to rebuild the economy?” Robb asked.

“You know it wasn’t your father’s idea,” his mother answered.

Robb reluctantly nodded his head. Robert did like his tournaments, but he thought the King had agreed to stop with all of the extravagance. He wondered what was so important that they had to have another Tournament. “I don’t like this, your brother is too young for the capital. He should stay here a few more years,” she told him.

Robb poked at the lamb on his plate, “You knew this day would come sooner or later. Bran wants to be a knight of the Kingsguard one day. It was only a matter of time before he left,” Robb said softly. Before his father had left for King’s Landing, he had wanted to bring Bran with him, but mother wouldn’t let him go. He knew how hard this must be for her. “I’ll look after him, I promise.” Robb said, trying to reassure her.

“Thank you,” she said, looking at him with affection. “You’ve done so well here in your father’s absence. I know how hard it is to take on your father’s duties here in Winterfell. I’m so proud of you Robb,”

“Thank you, mother, that means a lot to me,”

“Do you plan on participating in the Tournament?” She spoke cautiously, almost afraid to ask.

He wanted to participate, but he wasn’t going to get his hopes up too high. He knew how his father felt about them. He doubted father would let him take part in it. He was still a little curious as to why father wanted him to go to King’s Landing. He understood why he wanted Bran, Bran wanted to be a knight of the Kingsguard. Robb’s place was here in Winterfell, not in King’s Landing, why would father want him down there? The only thing he could think of was to discuss with him the terms of the new tax law in further detail. Robb shrugged his shoulders at his mother. “I don’t know, maybe.”

He could tell she was uncomfortable with the idea of him participating in the tourney. “Can I bring Theon with us? I’m sure he will want to go as well,” He said trying to change the subject as quickly as he could.

His mother gave him a slightly agitated look. “Fine, but stay away from those brothels. I don’t want Bran anywhere near those types,” She spoke firmly.

Robb nodded his head at her obediently. “Of course mother, that goes without question.” Robb said, going back to finish his meal. He poked a piece of mutton with his fork, and brought it to his mouth. The beef was surprisingly tender for it is an older lamb.

“There was more in the letter,” Catelyn spoke so quietly that he barely heard her over him chewing his food. “Oh? What else was there?” he asked still with his face in his plate. When she didn’t answer him right away, he looked back up at her. It was then he noticed she had teardrops slowly falling down her face.

He looked at her with worry. He didn’t like to see his mother get upset, what was it? Before he could ask, her face had formed into a loving smile, and she now looked at him with affection. “Your father. . . Has also arranged for you to be married,”

Robb sat in stunned silence, and all the color drained from his face. His mouth hung wide open, which caused all the food he was chewing to fall out of his mouth.

 

**A/N**

Thanks for reading. Hope it was somewhat enjoyable. I plan to have the next chapter up by the end of the week...hopefully lol.

And on another footnote here, Aegon does not exist in this story. I wasn't all that fond of him in ADOD so I'm not including him in this. I know some of you may like him, but sorry, I wasn't a big fan of his storyline.

Comments, and thoughts are always appreciated. Good, bad, whatever, let me know.

Cheers.


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again,
> 
> Yea..so..a week..not so much lol. My semester started before I finished the next chapter, and once school starts I tend to forget about this stuff. I had my finals early this week, and now I'm back home for a month before spring semester begins. I plan to work on this for the time I'm off, and hopefully I will get to what I want to get to. In any case, here is the next chapter.

* * *

It was a calm night tonight. The sun was starting to descend over the horizon of the ocean, casting the sky in a bright orange glow. The clouds were sparks of embers, clashing against the blue ocean. The soft sounds of waves brushing up on the beach always relaxed him. They lived together, here, in a snug little cottage beside the sunset sea. The walls were lopsided and cracked. The floor had been made of packed earth, but he had always been warm here. Tonight they were outside on the beach, resting in the sand watching the sun go down. The way the rays of the sunlight caught her eyes in the twilight of the day was unlike anything else in the world.

“It’s beautiful tonight,” She whispered softly into his ear as they lay together.

“Yes, it is,” he answered, but not looking at the sun. He was scared if he stopped looking at her, he would never see her again. She was so vividly beautiful this night, her features were so clear. The red sun turned her blue eyes into an enchanting purple that shined like amethysts.

She turned her head to look at him, smiling a playful grin with those kind, gentle, and beautiful eyes. “You’re not even looking at it, silly,” she said, rubbing her nose up against his. He loved it when she did that.

“I am looking at the sun,” he told her. She smiled shyly to him, he leaned forward to steal a sweet kiss from her lips.

“Look, ” she said, turning back towards the horizon. “What is that? Do you see it?” she continued.

He turned his head back to the sun, but had to squint when the light touched his eyes. The once orange-red sun was now an intense white that blinded his vision, forcing his eyes closed.

“Time to wake up little brother.” He heard a familiar voice echo in his ears.

When he opened his eyes again, she was gone. Their house and the beach, they had been lying on had disappeared, like a mirage in the desert. Instead of the view of the vast ocean, and beautiful sunset, he was in his room in the Red-Keep of King’s Landing. It had all been a dream, a dream that he desperately wanted to go back to.

His older brother, Ser Jaime Lannister, was looking at him with a bemused smile standing next to an open window. A bright beam of light shined in the room, forcing Tyrion to squint his eyes.

“What time is it?” Tyrion said begrudgingly rubbing his eyes, still wishing he was asleep. Jaime looked regal especially standing there by the window. The rays of the sunlight made Jaime’s armour glow a golden aura. His long golden hair accented his golden plated armour, and white cloak of the Kingsguard perfectly.

“It’s half past noon. Cersei wanted you up an hour ago,” Jaime said, and then began moving away from the window, and closer to where Tyrion sat in bed. Tyrion didn’t notice at first that his brother had been holding a wooden bucket in his hands. Before Tyrion could even think of what his brother was doing, Jaime dumped the contents on his head, completely drenching him in water.

“And now that you’ve washed…” Jaime said, clapping his hands loudly, and on cue an army of servants came rushing into his room. Each one carried with them clean clothes, dry towels, and new bedsheets and linens to get him ready for the day.

Tyrion wished he could say this was the first time he had been woken up this way, but that would be a lie. He wiped his face, removing water from his eyes, and gave his older brother an annoyed look. Being dragged out of bed by way of water dousing was not something he particularly enjoyed.

“Why does our sweet sister desire my presence so urgently? Is there a word she is having trouble pronouncing? Patience, perhaps? She’s always had trouble with that one, among others.” Tyrion said mockingly, as the servants stood him up to his feet and began drying him off, and discarding his soaking wet clothes for the new ones.

Jamie shook his head in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you forgot already? The Tyrells are arriving today, remember?”

“Oh, I forgot that was today,” Tyrion said with a slight laugh. Normally he would remember such a thing, but seeing her in his dream made him forget about reality. At least it wouldn’t be a boring day here in the capital. “I see, our sister wants me looking my best to greet our new guests. I may start think she actually does care about me,” Tyrion said cynically. One servant began drying his soaking wet hair more roughly than necessary after he said that. _That one must be one of Cersei’s little birds._

Jaime didn’t answer, instead he chose to smile to himself watching the servants struggle to put on his outfit. His outfit was befitting of a Lannister, a red velvet doublet with golden lion buttons, and golden-velvet pants hemmed with red stitching. One servant had to hold his hands still while the other went to work buttoning up his doublet. Tyrion was giving them a hard time on purpose, he still wanted to go back into his dream.

“You could say that. The Tyrells have brought nearly all the lords of the Reach with them for the wedding. Robert is feasting them at nightfall.” Jaime said finally.

“Ah, and the Queen’s brother can’t be absent during such an occasion now can he? Do you think they brought enough wine for the wedding? You know how those northerners can drink. I could go for some of that golden arbor wine myself,” Tyrion said.

Jaime walked over to his nightstand and drank what remained of Tyrion’s water that rested there. “I’m sure they are bringing enough for everyone. I hear Mace Tyrell only stops drinking to fill his mouth with food.” Jaime with a laugh.

Tyrion smiled up at him. “He should get along famously with our King then,” It would be fun to make fun of all the lords of the Reach with Jaime today. They had a running bet on how fat Lord Tyrell has gotten since the last they saw him.

The Tyrells arriving in the capital surely had his sister on the edge. It will also be entertaining to watch Cersei pretend to be cordial to them. She has been extremely irritable as of late, and this wedding was making her worse. Seeing his sister being miserable in truth Tyrion silently enjoyed, they never did truly get along.

“How is our lovely sister doing this morning?” Tyrion asked, though already knowing the answer, he simply wished to hear it out loud.

“She’s as expected, after what Robert is forcing her to do. She convinced Robert to keep Joffrey here until after the wedding is over. Once it is done, Joffrey will be sent to Casterly Rock, to father.” Jaime answered.

Tyrion silently nodded his head. In truth, fostering Joffrey elsewhere should have happened years ago. The boy was a sixteen year old who acted like a spoiled seven year old. Joffrey needed discipline if he hoped to be one day be a good king. And, there was no one better in the Seven Kingdoms at giving discipline then, Tywin Lannister. Tyrion had first-hand knowledge of that discipline, he dreamed about it regularly…

“If Joffrey is smart, he will befriend Robb Stark before this is all said and done.” Tyrion said.

Jaime paused before taking another sip of Tyrion’s water. “That’s not likely.” Jaime answered into the cup.

Jaime was right, it wasn’t likely, but one could hope. This alliance Lord Eddard Stark, the Hand of the King, was making with House Tyrell had far reaching political consequences. Joffrey would be wise to take advantage of an opportunity like this. Making friends with the boy would be profitable for everyone involved. Robb Stark was half Stark, and half Tully, already having blood ties to two of the most influential houses in the realm, and now with a Tyrell wife… If Joffrey didn’t see an opportunity there to create a powerful ally, then he truly was a fool.

The servants, then finished with the last touches of his outfit, he stood before his brother and shifted his golden velvet pants slightly. “It’s a little tight in the crotch,” Tyrion said, looking up at his brother.

Jaime flashed his handsome smile down at him. The same smile he has grown to love, and hate, all at the same time. “Let’s hurry then, we’re already late,” Jaime said.

“Lead the way,” Tyrion answered.

The two Lannister brothers walked through the halls of the Red-Keep with a small escort of Lannister guards. They walked at a brisk pace towards the Throne Room, at least, as fast as his tiny dwarf legs could carry him. The castle was busier than it normally was at this hour of the day. The arrival of the lords of the Reach had everyone scurrying a bit quicker. There were more guards on patrol, and more lords and ladies than usual. All of whom had the courtesy to stop and bow as Tyrion, and Jaime strode past them. It would only get worse as the month went on. A tournament alone was enough to cause a large stir in the capital. The last Tournament had been a raucous occasion here in the city. Now add a wedding between two great houses of the Seven Kingdoms and… oh yes… this will be a busy month.

It wasn’t long before they came to the Great Hall that housed the Iron Throne. They came in through one of the side passages instead of the main entrance to not cause a distraction, as introductions were already underway.

The Great Hall of the Red-Keep was very large. It had high vaulted ceilings, and stained glass windows. It could accommodate a thousand people easily. Today that capacity was nearly bursting to the limits, as lords and ladies continued coming in. The Great Hall itself was decorated properly for the occasion. Four large banners hung from the rafters of the ceiling. A large banner of The Tyrell golden rose hung beside the Stark direwolf of House Stark in the centre of the hall. Directly above the Iron Throne hung the Lion of Lannister, side by side with the King’s sigil, the crowned Stag of Baratheon. The banners were more than decoration, they were symbols of power, and how much influence those houses had within the Realm.

Tyrion, and Jaime, found a spot together by themselves on a side balcony that looked out over the Throne Room. Tyrion climbed up on top of the stone railing to get a better view, and sat with his back leaned up against a marble pillar. Jaime stood leaning against the stone railing next to him, resting his gauntlets on the marble railing. Tyrion like this spot because they were high enough to see everything, but not close enough to be of much notice to others.

King Robert sat on the Iron Throne with a goblet of wine in his hands, already appearing half drunk. Tyrion wished they could have stopped for a flagon themselves before coming in, everything is better with wine in the belly.

Queen Cersei stood off to the left side of the Throne at the bottom of the stairs, with all of her children. Prince Joffrey, princess Myrcella, and prince Tommen all stood with their mother. The young crown prince wore a black and gold velvet surcoat with elaborate patterns. Princess Myrcella wore a red dress much like her mother, and plump little Tommen wore a red velvet tunic much like his own. All of Cersei’s children had the signature Lannister features, green eyed, and golden haired.

Joffrey stood with his betrothed, the beautiful blue eyed, auburn haired Sansa Stark. The girl’s style of dress was much like Cersei. She wore her hair like the Queen, and Princess Myrcella, wearing most of it down, with a few braided accents to frame her face. The Stark girl had all the grace and beauty of a proper Queen.

On the right side of the Throne were the rest of the Starks. The Hand of the King, Lord Eddard Stark, in a leather studded surcoat, never out of armor that one was. He stood like a frozen statue as the various lords of the Reach were announced into the hall. He stood with his youngest daughter, Arya, next to him. She was dressed in a more traditional northern style dress, and wore her down with only a simple braid. The young northern girl took after her father in appearance, which was unlike her other siblings who all took after their mother, save for the bastard on the Wall. She had dark brown hair, and grey eyes, features of the Starks.

Tyrion suddenly wondered how Jon Snow was doing up on the Wall. He had befriended the bastard of Winterfell during his time at the Wall. The boy was most likely a brother of the Night’s Watch by now. Perhaps he had been named to the rangers as he wanted, and now roamed the lands beyond the wall with his Uncle, Benjen Stark. Tyrion needed to remind himself to send a raven to Castle Black, he was curious as to how his young friend was doing.

“I have to admit, I was wrong about Lord Stark. He is made out to be a rather capable Hand of the King.” Tyrion said in a low voice to Jaime.

Jaime turned his head to look at him unconvincingly before turning turned back towards the Throne Room, eyeing Eddard Stark with an unreadable expression. Lord Stark didn’t seem the kind of man to be able to maneuver the politics of the capital. Honorable men have a way of letting their honor hold back their ambition. But, increasing the taxes of the entire realm was ambitious, very ambitious, and very unpopular.

Jaime’s silence was deafening, apparently his older brother disagreed with him. “You don’t think so?” Tyrion began again. “I think he’s done well in his return. He’s gotten Robert to actually sit on small council meetings… For the moment, at least. With the new tax law in place, we may not have to keep borrowing from father,” Tyrion answered.

Jaime reluctantly nodded his head. “He’s done more than Jon Arryn, I’ll give him that.”

“And now, to keep the peace, he’s marrying his heir to one of the wealthiest houses in the realm. Not a bad use of power if you ask me,” Tyrion continued.

Still, Tyrion doubted Lord Stark had been able to do all of this on his own. He must be receiving help from someone on the small council. Renly Baratheon was the obvious choice. The King’s youngest brother, and Master of Laws, was on more than friendly terms with Loras Tyrell, Mace Tyrell’s third son, and favored son. It wouldn’t be too far of a stretch to believe Renly had put certain ideas in Lord Stark’s head.

Jaime keeping his eyes fixed on Lord Tyrell unconvinced. “You think it’s a good match?”

“I think it makes sense politically for both houses. Robb Stark is half Tully as well don’t forget. The Tyrells get two alliances for the price of one, while the Starks get the Reach.” Tyrion said.

Everyone knew the Hand of the King was behind the new tax law. It wasn’t a coincidence that he returns and not two month later, a new tax law is signed into law. Many were calling it “The Hand’s Law” behind closed doors now, to say there had been some disgruntled opinions about it would be an understatement. Everyday there were new vicious rumors about Lord Eddard Stark, one was how he was using his station as Hand of the King to extort money for himself. Though now, with the Reach coming into the fold, few would dare oppose the law.

“The match is fine I suppose, though don’t tell that to Cersei. To say she’s upset would be putting it mildly. She’s angry about what the Starks are giving the Tyrells in exchange,” Jaime answered.

The fact that Cersei didn’t like it wasn’t groundbreaking news to him. She seldom approved of anything Lord Stark did these days. Her displeasure was mostly because King Robert was starting to listen to Lord Stark more than her. “Remind me again. I don’t share the same friendly relationship with our sister, the Queen, as you do dear brother. What else are the Tyrells receiving?”

They paused their conversation as the Tyrells were finally being announced into the Throne Room. “Mace Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden, Defender of the Marches, High Marshall of the Reach, Warden of the South, and, the King’s Master of Ships,” The herald announced loudly into the Throne Room. Mace Tyrell walked towards the Iron Throne with his head held high, as if he was the proudest man in the world. _He must hold it high in order to keep all of those titles from falling off his head,_ Tyrion silently mused.

The man was quite tall, he stood over six feet, and perhaps once looked threatening. But, now, he just looked like a big fat melon rolling down the hall. His beard was cut into a triangular shape that he died green to match the color of his house, but, in truth, it only made him look even more ridiculous. With him were two of his sons, Ser Loras Tyrell, and Ser Garlan Tyrell. Both Tyrells sons had long flowing brown hair, and golden eyes, though the elder brother Garlan’s was cut shorter, and he had a thick formidable looking beard. Tyrion watched in envy as many of the ladies of the court blushed, and smiled longingly at them, especially at Ser Loras. The only time a woman would look at him like that was when he paid her to.

“Ser Loras is going to be named to the Kingsguard. There’s going to be an induction ceremony at the beginning of the Tournament for him,” Jaime said watching the young knight closely.

“Such a shame for Ser Preston, to be expelled from the Kingsguard like that over a draper’s wife.” Tyrion said with no real remorse.

“A broken vow is all the same to the honorable, Lord Stark. Preston is lucky to still have his head. Lord Stark has spent too many days in snow, he does not see in color,” Jaime answered with barley veiled disdain.

Tyrion looked back on the Iron Throne, where the youngest Baratheon stood standing beside Lord Eddard Stark. The young Baratheon had a big smile on his face watching the Tyrells enter the Throne Room. “Renly appears happy about that.” Tyrion said with a soft laugh.

Jaime turned his head away from the Great Hall, and eyed Tyrion with a glint of a smile. “Of course he is, I hear Robert is going to assign him to guard Renly as well,” Jaime said, letting that thought linger in the air for a few seconds.

“I don’t think “guarding” is the correct word for what those two will be doing on a regular basis now,” Tyrion said with a louder laugh than he meant to let out.

Jaime chuckled along with him a bit more loudly than before. A few lords below them heard their cackling, and looked up with an annoyed expression at the distraction, but once they saw who they were, the lords all turned quickly back towards the hall pretending not to have seen them.

Jaime’s expression then grew more serious, he leaned in closer as if he were revealing a secret. “This isn’t public knowledge, but, the Reach, is also only going to be additionally taxed half of what everyone else has to pay.”

Tyrion paused on this for a moment, before he looked back out at the rest of the Tyrells following closely behind Loras and Garlan. Garlan’s dainty blond haired wife was with him. Surprisingly the woman made the journey for the wedding, she was very pregnant, and appeared about ready to give birth. It would seem the Tyrell family was getting bigger by the moment. The white haired, Olenna Tyrell, or more famously known “Queen of Thorns” walked slowly with a cane down the hall besides her granddaughter, Margaery Tyrell. The young bride to be was very beautiful, Tyrion thought. Much like her brother Loras, she had long soft curling brown locks of hair, brown eyes, and a slender yet shapely figure. She wore a teal dress that showed off her womanly assets, and she wore a green maiden cloak on her. “You’re right, that is quite a lot for the match,” Tyrion finally said

“Lord Stark is giving them too much. The Tyrells get the heir to the North, an alliance with the Riverlands in the process, a seat on the Small Council, a son in the Kingsguard, and a reduced tax rate. Mace Tyrell acts as if he has a princess to demand such a high price for the girl’s hand.” Jaime said, trying to hide his anger in his voice, but failing. He gripped the railing of the marble with his gauntlets tighter, as if he were trying to bend it by sheer will.

Tyrion was surprised himself by the cost of the betrothal. What surprised him even more was Lord Stark’s willingness to give so much in exchange. It seemed almost….desperate. Desperate men do things on account of fear, what could Lord Eddard Stark fear? A dark and dangerous road that train of thought led him. A large pit suddenly formed in Tyrion’s gut. _There’s no way…._ He quickly got the feeling that things were going change around here more quickly than he had originally anticipated.

* * *

 

 End

* * *

Thanks for reading if you've made it this far, lol.

Next chapter is almost done. (take that with a grain of salt), hahaha.

Cheers


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> George R. R. Martin owns all rights

The small council assembled in the latter half of the afternoon. Ned thought meeting later in the day would create a better chance of Robert making an appearance. The small council chambers were richly furnished. Myrish carpets covered the floor. Majestic tapestries covered the windows from Norvos and Qohor and Lys. Exquisite paintings hung on all sides of the room, each painting depicting a different landscape of the Seven Kingdoms. A pair of Valyrian sphinxes flanked the door, eyes of polished ruby blazing in black marble faces. The table itself was long and thick made of rich mahogany. On top of the table was the matter of discussion today, a gilded cage with a white raven inside. The white raven arrived this morning from the Citadel in Oldtown, signaling the end of summer, and the dawn of winter.

Ned was sitting quietly in his chair at the right hand of the King’s seat. Grand Maester Pycelle sat at the foot of the table, toying with one of the metal links of his many chains. Grand Maester Pycelle certainly appeared the part of the king’s advisor. His maester’s collar was no simple metal choker like the one Luwin wore in Winterfell, there were intricate chains coiled all together from throat to breast. The links were forged from every metal known to man: black iron and red gold, bright copper and dull lead, steel and tin, and pale silver, brass and bronze and platinum. Garnets and amethysts were adorned in with the metalwork, along with a smattering of emeralds and rubies.

“Will the King grace us with his presence today?” Grand Maester Pycelle suddenly spoke from his seat at the foot of the table.

“Yes,” Ned replied back to him.

The whisky fringe of his long white beard curled into a kind smile. “Good, very good, my lord,” Pycelle said.

Robert, so far, has done what he asked when it came to the council meetings. Although, making the King an active and productive member during the meetings may end up being a futile endeavor. Robert had been drunk for all of the meetings, and he fell asleep whenever Pycelle would take too long in finishing his sentences. Even still, the King’s mere presence made the other council members more attentive.

Ned turned his attention to one of the paintings on the far side of the room. It was an intricate weaving of colors that turned into a sprawling landscape of a snow covered pine forest. It was the North. Ned wanted nothing more to imagine himself there. To hear Robb and Jon practice in the training yard, to feel the warmth of his lady wife, Catelyn. The feeling of cold air in his lungs, and the fresh scent of pine in the mornings was deeply missed on these hot humid days. The cold was harsh, hard, and unforgiving, but it was honest, unlike where he currently found himself.

“Lord Stark, you look tired this afternoon. Is something troubling you?” A quiet voice close to him said.

Ned turned his head, noticing Varys had already taken his accustomed seat directly across from him. He sat with his hands folded in his lap, hidden amongst the volumous purple sleeves of his rich velvet robe. “You do move silently, lord Varys. I didn’t hear you enter,” Ned said back to him.

“I am the spider, my lord hand. I have certain reputations to maintain,” Varys said with an artful smile.

“Such a noble reputation that is, to be seen and unseen at the very same time. A handy trait for thieves as well,” Littlefinger said, his voice filled with cynicism sitting down in his seat next to Varys. The two looked at each other with calculating smiles. It always made Ned slightly nervous whenever those two would smile like that at each other. It always felt as if they were speaking of something else entirely, and they were the only ones who knew what that something was.

Littlefinger turned his gaze onto Eddard Stark, while toying with his pointed chin-beard. “I recommend citrus, my lord Hand. Spiders are known to despise the scent,” Littlefinger said to him.

“Is that why you always smell of lemons, Lord Baelish. Here I thought it was to mask the smell of your less than _noble_ establishments,” Varys quipped.

“Many noblemen have come to enjoy the pleasures that I can offer them, such a shame you will never be able to enjoy the feeling yourself,” Littlefinger replied back. The eyeing the area where Varys had his hands folded together in his lap.

Every meeting started this way, childish bantering back and forth between council members. It was nauseating to no end. Ned had no patience for this war of words that they played. _I’m surrounded by fools and flatterers._ The king had said in the crypts of Winterfell, and it was proving true enough.

“I think you two should finally kiss and get it over with,” Renly Baratheon said walking into the room. Renly wore a gold and black half cape draped casually over his shoulder. Renly winked at Ned, as he took his accustomed seat beside him, before smirking at Varys and Littlefinger. Ned still didn't quite know what to make of Renly. Every time he looked at him, it was as if the years slipped away, and it was Robert before him, and they were boys in the Eyrie again, but, he wasn't Robert, was he. Renly had a friendly way about him and an easy smile that made all the fair maidens croon, and yet, Ned couldn't recall a single time Renly reciprocated any of the affection he received. That was very unlike Robert.

“Interesting choice of accessories, Lord Renly, is that a token of someone close to you? Possibly, a _friend_ of yours?” Littlefinger quipped, indicating to the rose shaped emerald brooch on a Renly’s outfit.

“You wouldn’t know would you, Littlefinger, since you don’t have any friends,” Renly bantered right back.

Ned ignored them as they continued to one up each other, turning his attention back to the snow covered forest on the wall. Wishing to the old gods that he could imagine himself there. He wanted to hear the sound of Robb and Jon practice in the yard. He missed the warmth of his lady Catelyn’s arms. Mace Tyrell was the next to enter the small council chambers. Everyone greeted the newly appointed Master of Ships kindly before he took his seat beside Renly. Mace Tyrell wore a rich velvet green doublet, with a golden cape that hung all the way down his back. He wore jeweled rings of emeralds, and golden diamonds.

Ned still felt uneasy with this alliance he was making with the Lord of Highgarden. Varys, the eunuch, had made a good case for the union that night in his solar. Ned did want to diminish the hold House Lannister had here in King’s Landing. The lions had a vice grip on many of the titles and stations here in the capital. Bringing in House Tyrell was one way of diminishing their influence, but, Ned worried he was only trading one ambitious family for another.

“How far are your sons from the capital Lord Stark? Will they be here in time for the tournament?” Mace Tyrell asked from his seat.

“Yes, they will be here for all the festivities,” Ned said with some displeasure. This tournament and the extravagance of the wedding was not something he wanted. Lords and knights were traveling from all over the realm for the tournament and wedding. They made this new tax in order save the Crown from financial ruin, not spend it as soon as they receive it. Robert had insisted on having a tournament to mark the wedding. “The tournament of the wolf and the rose,” the smallfolk were calling it, but he wanted nothing to do with it. The wedding itself was already costing three times as much as he wanted to spend, and the tournament was an unnecessary distraction. Robert answered his caution about it by saying _“We’re taking all their money away; they should have one last tournament to keep their mind off it.”_

Which the king may have a point on that. Now that winter was coming, it would be the last tournament of the long summer. The smallfolk will at least have something to talk about.

“Very good, my family and I are looking forward to meeting your sons,” Mace Tyrell said pouring himself a cup of wine.

“As am I. Will Robb be entering the tournament?” Renly asked from his seat.

“I’m sure he will want to,” Ned grumbled. Ned was certain Robb will want to take part in the tournament. He was of age now, and it would be his first time visiting the capital. It would be hard for him not to get caught up in all the excitement, and the glory of winning the tournament. Ned didn’t like the idea of his son putting himself in harm’s way for no real reason. Tournaments made war out to be what it wasn’t, glorious. War was not something meant to be celebrated.

“Excellent, I am looking forward to it,” Renly spoke again.

“Yes, the tournament will be a grand event, and the wedding between my daughter and your noble son will be just as impressive, my lord,” Mace continued.

Eddard Stark was doing his best to hold his tongue. Here they all were, jesting with each other, flattering each other and themselves, talking about tournaments, weddings, and feasts. The white raven was sitting in the middle of the table for all to see, and yet they ignore it for what’s sweeter to the ear. _Wait for Robert,_ he silently told himself. Winter was coming, and all this talk of honeyed summer will soon be a distant memory. They needed to prepare accordingly for the hard times ahead.

The council members continued to speak to each other about the coming events in the capital. The minutes passed by slowly for Eddard as he listened to them. Mace Tyrell boasted about his son Ser Loras's appointment to the Kingsguard, as well as his prowess with the sword, and victories in past tournaments. It became immediately apparent to Ned what type of man Mace Tyrell was, arrogant, lazy, self-entitled, and oblivious. The price had been steep for the betrothal, so steep he nearly discarded the idea completely, but, he knew, with winter coming the Reach will play a vital role in keeping the realm from starvation. The role of House Tyrell will be more important now than ever before, he needed them to be compliant with what they were trying to do here in the capital. If that meant having to put up with a man like Mace Tyrell, then so be it.

“Are you certain the King will be joining us my lord?” Pycelle said skeptically from his seat at the end of the table. It’s been a few minutes since everyone had gotten settled in, and the white raven in the room was starting to crow loudly. The council members slowly becoming more and more aware of its presence, and its ominous meaning.

“You know how my brother is. His memory has been known to lapse whenever these meetings occur,” Renly spoke.

“Our king does have many cares, it may be prudent to begin without him,” Varys spoke.

“He’ll be here, he gave me his word,” Ned said firmly.

The council members all looked at each other skeptically. Ned didn’t blame them for their uncertainty, it would be a new record for Robert, two council appearances in a single week. It was so rare that perhaps they should write a song about it.

“We may….” Littlefinger started to say when they all heard the doors suddenly opened, and the sound of heavy footsteps making their way into the room.

Robert came stomping into the chambers with the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Barristan Selmy by his side. Ned stood to his feet with the rest of the small council, all bowing their heads in respect to the King. Robert went to take his seat in the King’s chair at the head of the table without so much of a word, the crowned Stag of Baratheon embroidered in gold thread on the chair’s pillows. When he sat down, so did the rest of the council. Robert leaned forward in his seat and immediately poured himself a cup of red wine.

Mace Tyrell was the first to break the silence. “My King, let me begin by saying it is…” Robert put a hand up to silence him while continuing to drink from his goblet without interruption. Robert finished the goblet of wine in a single sip, he then wiped his mouth once before filling the goblet back up again.

“Yes, yes, very well, continue” Robert said with some annoyance.

Mace cleared his throat and began again. “Let me begin by saying there is no greater pleasure than to serve the King’s grace. I am deeply honored that you’ve allowed me position onto your royal council. You will find none more loyal or true.”

Robert eyed Mace Tyrell for a long moment before turning to Ned. Robert leaned in close to him and said “ _another one,”_ softly under his breath. A small smile formed on both of them as they came to a quiet understanding. Neither one of them truly wanted Mace Tyrell sitting on this council. They both knew what kind of man he was, another flattering fool out for himself carrying false praise and a large bank account.

“You can thank lord Stark for your position, lord Tyrell. He’s the only reason I’ve allowed you a seat on my council. If it wasn’t for him, you’d still be sitting in Highgarden getting fat. Never forget that _I_ still remember which side of the war you fought on,” Robert said taking another sip of wine, but never taking his eye off the Warden of the South.

“Of course, your grace, my lord Hand. I am deeply honored to be here, and will serve you well,” Mace Tyrell said.

The King finished his second goblet of wine when he realized that they were all waiting for him. “Well get on with it then. Ned, take it away,” Robert said, slinking back in his chair, letting his right Hand do all of the work for him.

Eddard Stark sat up straighter in his seat and turned towards the elephant in the room, or rather, the white raven in the room. “As you all can see; the white raven has arrived from the Citadel. Winter is coming, and it falls on us to prepare the kingdom for the hard times ahead.”

“The Citadel has confirmed it. This summer has lasted ten years, two turns and sixteen days. The longest summer in living memory,” Pycelle said.

“The peasants say a long summer means an even longer winter,” Varys spoke from his seat.

“We must begin a discussion of what will and must be done,” Eddard Stark stated looking around the room eyeing each council member as he spoke.

 

Littlefinger opened his book of financial records. “We have enough grain for a six-year winter. Any longer than that…. We will have fewer peasants,” he said simply.

“How long will it be before we reach a balanced budget?” Varys asked Littlefinger.

Littlefinger turned the heavy tome of finances to the page he needed before speaking again. “As it stands, the new land tax will generate a twenty percent increase in the crown's income. While the shipping and trading taxes should produce an addition five. However, the tax breaks we’ve given to House Tyrell and to House Lannister will take us longer to balance the budget. If all goes according to plan, and we pay down our debts, and only our debts with the increase, we should be out of the red in six years, seven at the most.”

“Record high taxes in the middle of winter. There will most likely be at least one peasant revolt,” Renly stated reluctantly. Everyone in the room knew how unpopular this law was throughout the realm, and winter would not make things easier. Ned heard the whispers in the capital, and the anger that was directed mainly towards him. What they say about the Hand of the King was true, the king shits, and the hand wipes, and receives all the residue.

“Which is why we need to stay stronger and more united than ever before. We need to prepare for a winter that may last as long as the summer,” Ned told them. “Mace Tyrell, we’ve agreed to give your house a break on taxes because of the debt the crown owes to you. The Reach is the most fertile of the seven kingdoms. We will have to lean on the Reach and Riverlands the most when it comes to feeding the rest of the realm. I will make sure House Tully will keep their end of the bargain, we will need you to keep yours,”

“House Tyrell will do its duty, have no doubt about that,” Mace said proudly with a straight back.

“I am certain your experience and knowledge of winter will be invaluable in the hard times ahead, my lord Stark,” Varys spoke. The eunuch turned towards Littlefinger and smiled, almost in victory.

“Yes, winter may be coming, but we still have other issues to deal with before the weather does in fact turn,” Littlefinger said rearing the discussion to the present.

 

“I hear the city watch is having trouble keeping the peace with the extra activity here in the city,” Pycelle murmured from his seat at the end of the table. This news was not unexpected, and even more proof that these tournaments were nothing but a complete waste of time and money. Knights have been pouring into the capital from all over the realm, and for every knight, there are two freeriders, three craftsmen, six-men-at-arms, a dozen merchants, two dozen whores, and countless thieves. The city was ripe for criminal activity.

“I still say we need new leadership in the city watch. I don’t believe Janos Slynt is a made out to be a competent commander,” Renly spoke out.

“What do you expect from the son of a butcher. Commanding is not in his blood. I suggest we make Connor Rowan the new commander of the city watch, the second born son of Mathis Rowan. He has been serving as guard-captain in Oldtown for five years now. He will make a fine commander, and more than capable of keeping the kings peace,” Mace Tyrell said. Ned scowled in annoyance to himself. It was Mace Tyrell’s first meeting, and he already petitioned for more positions for his Bannermen.

Renly was smiling gratefully to Mace Tyrell at backing his idea. "A fine choice," Renly said.

This was not the first time Renly has proposed new leadership was needed in the city watch. “Perhaps with more men commander Janos will be able to keep the peace,” Pycelle counseled from his seat.

Ned had no real opinion of Janos Slynt, he had been chosen by Jon Arryn himself as the commander. King’s Landing was not the picnic that the Reach was, he had no reason to believe the son of a Reach lord would be able to fare any better. Ned did want Mace Tyrell on his side in future meetings when the hard decisions were to be made during the winter, giving him this in his first meeting may be beneficial to him down the road.

Ned turned to Ser Barristan, who sat at the table next to Littlefinger. The white haired knight was still every bit the skilled swordsman he was in his youth. Ned was planning to have Bran train under him when he arrived in the capital. Ser Barristan had been quiet so far today, perhaps he could be the decider on this issue. “Ser Barristan, you’ve been quiet. What do you think? Do you believe new leadership is needed within the city watch?” Ned asked.

“I do not know Janos Slynt well, but I do know that he is not well respected within his own ranks. I will stand with lord Renly on this, my lord,” Barristan answered.

Eddard nodded his head to him before turning to Robert. The king was slunk back in his chair with his face in another goblet of wine, completely disengaged with what was going on around him. Ned looked to the large bottle of wine on the table, and could see it was already nearly empty. _Not ten minutes and he’s already piss drunk._

“Your grace?” Ned said loud enough so Robert would hear him over his stupor.

“What!” Robert grumbled loudly sitting up in his chair coming to attention.

“Do you have any objections to replacing Janos Slynt as commander of the city watch?” Ned asked the king.

“I could give a rats arse about Janos Slynt,” Robert answered.

“Very well then, I will draw up the order. At lord Renly Baratheon’s suggestion, and lord Mace Tyrell’s recommendation; we will replace Janos Slynt with Connor Rowan as Commander of the King’s Landing City Watch,” Eddard announced with authority to the council. Renly and Mace smiled in approval at his agreeing to their suggestion as he wrote up the order. When he was done, he sealed the parchment with the mark of the Hand of the King.

 

Pycelle started coughing loudly from his seat at the end of the table. From underneath his red velvet robes he pulled out a small rolled up parchment. “I nearly forgot I had this. I’m ashamed to admit I am becoming more forgetful in my old age. A raven arrived this morning, from Castle Black,” Pycelle said.

“More trouble with the wildlings,” Littlefinger said through an eye roll.

Eddard Stark felt a cold gale wind blow on the back of his neck at the sudden mention of Castle Black. The parchment was passed down the table to him, the seal of the black crow unbroken on the parchment. He took the parchment with and an ill at ease feeling washed over him.

“More trouble with the wildlings?” Littlefinger said pessimistically.

“Somewhat less wild these days. Seems they stoped killing each other and are now following this, King Beyond the Wall?”

Ned opened the letter, and recognized the handwriting of Jeor Mormont, the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch.

_To His Grace, King Robert of the House Baratheon,_

_The Night’s Watch requires your aide. Our numbers dwindle each passing year. We now only have the manpower to maintain three Castles along the Wall, the rest crumble to ruin. We need more men. The cold winds are rising, and the dead rise with them. I was attacked in my sleep by what can only be described as a wight. His skin was cold as stone, eyes of pale blue. In the night he rose from the dead, and tried to murder me in my sleep. I would not be alive to write you this letter if not for my steward, Jon Snow. The Night’s Watch is the only thing separates the Realms of men from what lies beyond the Wall. When winter falls, gods help us all if we are not ready._

_Jeor Mormont, 997 th Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch._

Ned had to re-read the letter twice before he could formulate a thought. This news was very disturbing. Jeor Mormont was a man of great honor; he would not lie about something like this. _Jon saved him._ A sudden rush of emotions filled him, and even more questions. He remembered the deserter warning of others declaring he saw them up until he took his head. He remembered the promise he gave Jon before leaving Winterfell. Could the boy handle the truth? _Could I_?

Things were happening beyond the Wall. Sightings of wights, wildlings joining forces. Ned didn’t believe it was coincidence all of this was happening right at the start of winter. Now more than ever he wished to be done with King’s Landing and ride north, and see what was happening for himself. He wanted to cancel this wedding and be done with all of it, all of them. But if something dark was coming, they would need as many men as they could.

“What does it say, my lord Hand?” Varys asked.

Ned relayed the contents to the council, and nearly all of the men sitting with him rolled their eyes in the exact same fashion.

“Preposterous,” Pycelle said immediately.

“Please tell me we are not taking this seriously? Wights, Others, it’s utter nonsense. These are nothing but stories to scare children,” Mace Tyrell stated.

“It was probably simply a wildling who snuck into Castle Black during the Night. This nonsense of wights is preposterous. Mormont is merely trying to scare us into action,” Littlefinger argued.

“I can’t help but agree, we can send them recruits from the dungeons. All of the criminals we round up for the Tournament will be sent to the Wall. That should help swell their numbers for the winter,” Renly said.

Ned wasn’t surprised by the quick dismissal of the word of the Lord Commander by the rest of the council. What did these southern lords know about winter, what did they know of the Wall or the nature of wildlings. They never had to worry about such things, out of sight, out of mind. “Jeor Mormont doesn’t lie,” Eddard Stark began firmly. “I understand that many of you may not be familiar with the word, honesty, but it means something to me. The Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch is a man of great honor, and his word should be taken seriously,” Eddard said.

“You don’t actually believe in wights, do you, my lord?” Littlefinger asked with an amused expression on his face.

“I do not know what I believe. I can tell you that I do believe Jeor Mormont saw something, something that he cannot explain,” Ned answered. Somehow he knew his words would still fall on deaf ears.

“Sorry Ned, but we can’t worry about something like this. We will do as my brother suggested. Any man caught thieving, raping, or anything else, will be sent to the Wall,” Robert said, ending the conversation and standing to his feet. The rest of the council standing with the King, and making their way out of the council chambers. He overheard talk of roasted duck, and honeyed ham. Ned still sat in his chair, looking at the white raven on the table, and the letter from Jeor Mormont in his hands. This winter would be long, and hard, and it would come sooner than they realized. He would need to find out what was going on at Castle Black for himself, but not until after all of this wedding business was over. Then he would ride North with or without the King’s consent to see what was really happening.

“C’mon Ned,” Robert said, patting him on the back. “Let’s go get some food,” Robert continued.

Eddard Stark rose to his feet and followed the King and the rest of the council out of the chamber. “Right behind you, your grace.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading
> 
> Enjoy the holidays
> 
>  
> 
> Cheers


	5. Five

During the journey south, they had met up with many of his father’s vassals. Lords and ladies of many northern noble houses were accompanying them to the capital. Houses of Karstark, Manderly, Umber, Hornwood, Dustin, Glover, Flint, and many more. Their numbers now swelled to well over two hundred. Some northern Lords were coming down to win glory in the Tournament the King was having, but, the main reason this many Northern lords were all gathering together and going this far south, was for, his wedding.

His father has betrothed him to Margery Tyrell, the daughter of lord Mace Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden, and Warden of the South. His father was making an alliance with the lords of the Reach. He understood the politics of it, his mother had explained that to death to him over dinner. This new tax law was very unpopular throughout the realm, and the alliance with the Reach would help to keep the King’s peace. He had always known he would have to get married at some point, but it was a shock to him, and wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about it.

What had surprised him the most, however, was the fact that his father had agreed to an alliance with the Lord of Highgarden. His father never spoke all that highly of House Tyrell in the past. _Flowers wilt in the autumn, and die in the winter, and winter is coming._ Robb remembered his father’s words when he talked of the lords of the Reach in years past. So, for his father to betroth him to a Tyrell still seemed strange to him, even if it was to keep the King’s peace. Robb had always assumed he would wed a Northern lord’s daughter, or perhaps a daughter from the Riverlands, never from the Reach. Things in King’s Landing must be more precarious than he thought if indeed his father was willing to deal with House Tyrell.

The journey south itself had been an adventure. It was the furthest away from Winterfell he has ever been in his life. The scariest part of the journey had been the swamps of the Neck. The swamp of the Neck was a maze of deep bogs, musky waters, and a fog thick as curdled milk. The trees had been drowning in the water, and what little of their bark did rise above the surface was covered in fungus. They had lost horses to venomous snakes, and ferocious lizard-lions that lived and hunted in the murky waters. Wagons had gotten stuck in the mud, their axels creaking and breaking from the weight of its load, unable to move through the muck of the swamp.

Robb had put on a brave face for Bran, but he himself couldn’t help the spine-crawling feeling as they passed through the eerie swamp. If the Crannogmen of the Neck hadn’t guided them through the foggy maze, he didn’t think they ever would have been able to get to the Riverlands. Any army that tried to pass through there would have a very hard time making it through in one piece. Robb finally saw with his own eyes why his father always spoke of the Neck’s vital role to the defense of the North.

Their company was currently just North of Lord Harroway’s Town in the Riverlands. The road they travelled on being little more than two brown tracks in the grass. The land itself was far kinder here in the Riverlands than the swamps of the neck, or the rest of the North for that matter. There were rolling hills, terrace fields, dispersed meadows, and willows resting besides slow shallow streams. The land was pleasant, and the air was warm, but the pace at which their company moved was excruciatingly slow.

The wagons carrying their loads, and the carriages carrying the lords and ladies of North slowed their pace through the narrow road to a near crawl. It seemed they could only go an hour before another axle broke, or a wheel got stuck, and they had to stop, and wait…again, and again. It had been frustrating to no end. On more than one occasion Robb had wanted to take Bran and Theon and ride to King’s Landing on their own.

Robb’s uncle, Ser Edmure Tully, was waiting for them by the Inn at the Crossroads with many lords of the Riverlands, and even some lords from the Vale. Robb was a little put off by the amount of attention the wedding was generating. He supposed most Vale lords were coming mainly for the tournament, but that didn’t mean that they wouldn’t be attending the wedding as well. Robb tried to focus solely on the tournament, that was easier to focus on. He was still having trouble coming to terms with the idea of marriage itself, in particular, the finality of it all. Although the closer they got to King’s Landing, the more the lords talked about the wedding, and the harder it was for him to block it out of his mind.

“What’s that face for, Stark?” Theon said riding up beside him on a brown mare. Theon wore a studded cured leather doublet, with a chainmail cuirass underneath. The Kraken sigil of house Greyjoy was emblazoned in black on his chest piece. Robb himself preferred heavier plate armor, as opposed to the lighter studded leather and mail. He found that training every day in the heavier armor over time, was making his sword swings and lance thrusts more powerful. He was slower while in the heavy armor for it, but having the heavy weight on his back and shoulders every day during training was making his whole body stronger because of it.

“Nothing,” Robb answered. Theon had a mischievous grin on his face, and that grin, was getting on his last nerve. Robb quickly prepared himself for another remark from Theon about the marriage. He hadn’t stopped the entire ride down. Every time he turned around, Theon was there, with that fucking grin on his face. Theon always had to find some way to sneak in a chiding remark about the marriage in almost every conversation. It was getting to the point where enough was enough, and they would have to have another “sparring” match before they reached King’s Landing.

“Don’t start,” Robb said getting his back up, immediately trying to stop another barb before Theon could even begin to say something.

"I wasn’t going to say anything,” Theon said with a hint of amusement in his voice, clearly, that wasn’t the case. From the way the mirth was dancing around in his eyes, he had been about to say something, again. “I hope you won’t be this agitated when you meet your betrothed, she may not like that,” Theon said.

“You let me worry about her, Greyjoy," Robb said back to him.

“Whatever you say, Stark…” Theon said with that fucking grin still displayed on his face. “So, have you decided if you’re going to participate in the tournament?” Theon asked, finally changing the subject to something he actually wanted to talk about.

Robb didn’t answer him right away; his attention was diverted to the sound of loud laughter coming from the men in front of him. Riding directly in front of him were members of House Karstark, and House Hornwood. Those two houses had recently celebrated a wedding of their own, as Lord Rickard Karstark’s daughter, Alys, recently wed, Daryn Hornwood, Lord Halys Hornwood’s son and heir. Robb, as Lord of Winterfell in his father’s absence, had held the wedding in Winterfell for them. He and his mother held a feast for them in the Great Hall, and the ceremony itself took place in the Godswood of Winterfell.

Daryn Hornwood, and Lord Karstark’s sons were all talking about the tournament’s melee, and how only a man from the North would be capable of winning it.

Robb did want to participate in the tournament himself, especially in the joust. The lance had always been his best weapon. He had been training with the lance on horseback for as long as he could ride a horse. Now that he was old enough, he was practically salivating at the chance to display his skill to the whole Kingdom. Though, he knew he shouldn’t get his hopes up too high. His father would most likely protest, or even forbid him from entering, but, maybe, he could use the wedding as leverage to get father to allow him to enter. He hoped as much at least.

“You better decide soon. It won’t be much longer before we reach the capital,” Theon said. Robb nodded his head in agreement. Theon was right, it wouldn’t be long now.

“As for myself, I’m going to enter the Archery competition. They say the prize money for the winning archer is twenty thousand gold dragons.” Theon paused for a moment before leaning back on his horse, and looking up at the sky. “Oh, what I could do with twenty thousand gold dragons...”

Robb didn’t want to know what Theon would do with that much coin. Knowing Theon, it most likely involved naked women, a lot of naked women. “Think of all the southern girls that will want to bed, me, Theon Greyjoy, the best archer in the Seven Kingdoms. My cock might fall of with how much ploughing I’m going to do in the Capital,” Theon continued boasting.

Robb laughed silently to himself, he always found it funny when Theon referred to himself in the third person. “I’m sure every girl in King’s Landing will know your name by the time we leave,” Robb joked to him.

Theon laughed arrogantly. “That’s right! They’ll sing songs of how my long arrow never misses its mark, but I don’t need to tell you what it’s like, do I?” Theon said with a grin, gesturing his head to the brown haired, blue eyed beauty that was, Alys Karstark, or rather, Alys Hornwood. She was riding about ten feet in front of them besides her husband. Both wore the signature dark orange colors of House Hornwood. Daryn dressed in mail and leather with an orange surcoat, and the Hornwood bull moose coat of arms on his chest, while Alys wore a dark grey dress with an orange-velvet cloak around her.

Robb turned back towards Theon and with icy glare. Theon laughed loudly at Robb’s glare before holding his hands up in acquiesces.

Alys turned her head on her horse to look back at him with a shy smile, and turned the faintest shade of red. Robb smiled politely back at her, before turning back towards Theon with a glare that could freeze the sun. Theon’s grin was as wide as the Trident River, and was laughing uncontrollably on his horse. _Oh, we are definitely “sparring” the next time we stop._

Theon got his laughter under control before speaking again. “Look, all I’m saying is: you will want to get as many under your belt before you’re locked in, Stark.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind,” Robb answered with a growl, hoping that would be the end of it.

Theon adjusted himself in his saddle, and turned back towards the road with a determined gaze. “That prize money is as good as mine,” Theon finished, holding his head up high with confidence.

Robb nodded his head in agreement. Theon was very good with the bow. He could hit basically anything, from anywhere. He could shoot accurately at short range, long range, medium range. He could shoot accurately from horseback, even at full gallop. Theon may be an arse, and more than a little cocky, but the confidence he had in his bow was not misplaced. If there was a better archer than Theon, Robb would have to see it to believe it.

“If I do enter the tournament, I’m going to take part in the joust. The lance has always been my best weapon, and I’m pretty confident in my riding. I can win it,” Robb said with determination, undaunted by the challenge of his competition.

“I’ll give you that, you’re not bad with the lance. The jousting has the biggest purse as well. I hear the winner gets forty thousand, and even the runner up gets twenty. However, your biggest competition may be your father, you know how he feels about tournaments,” Theon said.

“I know, I suppose we’ll find out when we get there, wont we?” Robb said. He paused when he heard a loud commotion coming up from the front of the company. There were men shouting from far up the road, and then the sound of horses neighing nervously came reverberated into his ears.

“I’m going to go check on Bran,” Robb said, before kicking his horse forward, and started cantering his way up towards where the noise was coming from. Bran ever was the curious lad, always had to ride at the front of the company. Robb didn’t like it; it was too dangerous at the front. Too much could go wrong up there, but his little brother was stubborn like that sometimes. Even though he knew Bran was well guarded, as a number of guards were always accompanying him, and Summer and Grey Wind were never far behind as well, but it still made him nervous.

Robb cantered his way toward the front, maneuvering around the many wooden wagons and carriages in his path. The closer he got to the front, the louder and more boisterous the horses were becoming. Some lords and ladies poked their heads out of the carriages to see what all the commotion was. The company’s slow pace had to come to a not so screeching halt, and it soon became apparent what was wrong, the direwolves. Both Summer and Grey Wind had grown quite large in the time that they’ve had them. Grey Wind, on all fours, rose up to Robb’s upper abdomen, which made him quite the intimidating presence. On several occasions during the journey both direwolves had startled the horses, and the men and women, which now seemed to be happening again.

Up ahead Robb could see Bran trying to keep his horse under control, and all the guards around him looking on uneasily. “My lord, be careful,” some guardsmen called out to Bran. The horse continued neighing nervously, and was moving awkwardly. The horse was giving off every indication he was about to buck. Both of the direwolves were slightly off to the side of the road, keeping their distance in the brush.

“I have it under control,” Bran said immediately as Robb came rushing up beside him.

Bran was holding onto the reins tightly, centering his weight as to not cause more stress to the horse, desperately trying to keep his horse under control.

“Keep forward momentum, Bran. Don’t let him plant his front legs!” Robb said.

“I know!” Bran answered. Robb could only look on helplessly as Bran tried to keep his horse under control. It was a long tense moment before the horse finally settled down, and stopped its loud nickering.

“See,” Bran said, smiling brightly aback the horse.

Robb didn’t find it as entertaining as his younger brother did. He hardened his gaze at him. “You need to be more aware, Bran. If you want to ride at the front of the company, always maintain control of your horse. A buck can happen quickly if you are careless like that. You don’t won’t to become a cripple now do you?” Robb said, with a severe tone of voice. Robb could hear his own voice echoing out loudly in front of the entire company.

“No,” Bran said meekly, looking down like he always did when he was being scolded.

“If it happens again, you will be riding a carriage the rest of the way. Do I make myself clear!?” Robb said with authority. Robb didn’t enjoy scolding his younger brother, but children don’t learn if they are rewarded for carelessness. Bran needed to understand that losing control of his horse was unacceptable. Robb looked around and noticed the guardsmen, and some of the lords trying to avoid his hard gaze.

Bran looked down at the ground with remorseful face, while sniffing his nose trying not to cry. Robb sighed and relented his anger. He could never stay mad at any of his siblings for too long. Robb rode up close to Bran who was still looking down at the ground. “Just be more careful, Bran,” Robb said to him more gently than before.

Bran picked his head up, and wiped his nose and at the corner of his eyes, trying to hide the tears falling down his face. “I will, I promise,” Bran answered with sincerity. Robb gently touched the neck of his horse, and guided it forward. Bran followed his lead, and soon the rest of the company continued their slow grueling march to King’s Landing. They rode in silence for a few long minutes before Bran finally spoke again.

“How much longer will it take to get there?” Bran asked cautiously.

“We’re getting closer; we will join uncle Edmure at the Inn at the Crossroads along the Trident River. Lord Karstark says we will arrive there tomorrow. It shouldn’t take too much longer to reach the capital after that,” Robb answered.

“The Trident River. That’s where King Robert killed Prince Rhegar, isn’t it?” Bran asked, turning his head slowly to look at him. Robb nodded his head silently to him.

Bran always enjoyed hearing the tale of King Robert defeating Prince Rhegar in single combat. During King Robert’s second stay at Winterfell months back, he had told them that story in vivid detail by the campfire during one of the hunts. _“As the battle raged around us, I faced off with Rhegar. The Stag and Dragon right there in ford of the river. I fought with the fury of ten men, reigning blow after blow before finally burying my Warhammer into his chest.”_

Robb smiled remembering that night. Bran had always wanted to hear more about the battles that King Robert and their father had together. They always had to hear of it from other men, because father would never speak of any his battles. Robb admitted he wanted to hear them from King Robert as well, the way the King told stories was unlike any other.

“I can’t wait to see everyone again. Father, Sansa, Arya, everyone. Do you think we’ll get to go hunting with King Robert like we did in Winterfell? That was so much fun!” Bran said, excitement quickly filling back up in his eyes. Bran had been dreaming of going to King’s Landing for a long time. He dreamed to one day become a knight of the Kingsguard, and with father now serving as Hand of the King, that would most likely come to pass, as soon as Bran was of age of course, and could handle a sword properly. The closer they got to King’s Landing, the harder it was for Bran to contain his enthusiasm.

“Perhaps, but King Robert may be too busy for that, Bran,” Robb said, trying to keep him from getting his hopes up too high.

“I can’t wait to see the capital. I want to see the red stone walls, and the thick bronze gates, and Visenya’s Hill, and the streets of steel, and the high vaulted ceilings of the Throne room. They say Blackwater Bay sparkles in the daylight, and shines in the moonlight. I want to go swimming in the bay. I know Summer will want to go too. Maybe we can all go swimming together? Do you think father will let us go swimming, Robb?”

Robb smiled and laughed softly shaking his head at Bran. “We’ll see, Bran, we’ll see. Much will happen when we reach King’s Landing, and much will change for everyone.”

Bran’s smile grew even wider when he said that. “That’s right, you’re getting married! I can’t believe that you’re actually getting married Robb!” Bran said happily. Robb eyed him before turning back to the road in front of them. _At least someone’s happy about it. Too bad Bran can’t be the one to marry her._

“I know, me either,” Robb said with more reluctance than he had meant to speak aloud.

Bran looked at him strangely. “They say lady Margaery is kind, and very beautiful. They say she feeds the poor, and visits orphaned children. You don’t think you will like her?”

Robb sat up straighter on his horse and lost his frown. He didn’t mean to raise his concerns about the marriage to his younger brother. To say he had some reservations about Lady Margaery of Highgarden would be putting it mildly. The last lady from the Reach to marry a lord from the North was Lynesse Hightower. She married the now dishonorable exile Jorah Mormont of Bear island.

The current lord of Bear Island, Meage Mormont, had sent her daughters in her stead on their journey to King’s Landing. Robb had more than a few conversations with Dacey Mormont about the marriage between Lynesse and Jorah. Dacey spoke of how Lynesse could never adapt to the lifestyle of the North, and would often she threw fits when she couldn’t have what she wanted. Which in turned drove Jorah to sell poachers to slavers in order to afford his wife’s expensive lifestyle.

This painted quite a vivid picture in his mind of what his own marriage may be like. After all, House Hightower were principle bannermen to House Tyrell, and also shared many relatives. Robb still knew however, that just because Lynesse acted that way, didn’t necessarily mean Margaery would be the same. He was doing his best to try not to judge Margaery before he actually met her, but the truth was, he had a hard time picturing anything but a stuck up rich girl, who was used to getting everything that she ever wanted.

“No, I’m sure I will like her. I’m sure she is beautiful, and compassionate, just like they say she is,” Robb told him, hoping he sounded believable. He felt bad about lying to Bran, but he didn’t want to worry him with it.

Bran smiled again, accepting his answer. “The weather is so warm here, and it smells like meadows,” Brann said

Robb nodded along his brother while looking around at the new atmosphere here in the Riverlands. It was far different than what they were used to in the North. There was so much more diversity of plant life and wildlife here. The running streams held an abundance of fish, and the bushes grew tasty sweet wild berries.

"It is warm here, and will only grow warmer the further south we travel,” Robb said as he swatted at an insect buzzing around him. That was one thing he never worried about in the North, the cold air kept all the mosquitos away.

"I like it. It’s the perfect weather for a swim. You can’t do that in the North, it’s too cold,” Bran said with delight.

Robb smiled, maybe some part of him enjoyed it, mostly because it was something he had never experienced before. The smell of flowers and grassy fields had a certain comforting feel. But he's heard too many sad stories of Northerners going south to truly appreciate the feeling. He still preferred the open cold fresh air of the North, and breathing in the scent of fresh pine that woke up every sense in his body. Though Bran was right about one thing, swimming did sound like fun. “All in good time Bran, all in good time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading
> 
> Cheers


	6. Six

She was walking quietly in the gardens of the Red-Keep that overlooked Blackwater Bay. The sun was shining brightly in the sky, the blue water sparkled in the soft waves, and the warm breeze felt nice against her skin. These gardens were nothing compared to what she was used to in Highgarden. Margaery, and most of her family had to Kings Landing for her wedding, save for her eldest brother, and heir to Highgarden, Willas. They arrived a fortnight ago, awaiting the arrival of her betrothed, Robb Stark. Many of the vassal lords of House Tyrell had come for the occasion as well, and also to gain glory at the Tourney the King was having in their honor.

When her father had told her that she would be married to the son of the Hand of the King, and heir to Winterfell, she put on the façade of being happy, grateful, and excited. In reality she was none of these, she was however utterly surprised. For a few years now, her father had been trying to make her King Robert’s Queen, With the help of her elder brother, Loras Tyrell, and the King’s youngest brother, Renly Baratheon. They had been trying to push Queen Cersei away from King Robert, and turn the King’s gaze on her. She had always dreamed of being Queen one day, and it was far more desirable than being the next Lady of the North. But she always thought that plan was more than a little foolish. To put herself on the Throne would be a clear insult to House Lannister, and a Lannister always pays his debt, or so the saying goes. Lord Tywin Lannister is not the type of man to sit idly by and watch his house be insulted in such a way. She was more likely to get a dagger in the back, or a wine chalice filled with poison before she ever called herself King Robert Baratheon’s Queen. And, she knew for certain her father didn’t have the ability to take on a man with such as one Lord Tywin Lannister.

Still, she had been completely caught off guard when her father had agreed to a match with the Starks of Winterfell. Everyone knew Lord Eddard Stark was behind this new tax law. It was obvious the man held much sway over the King. Getting into bed with the man who held the most influence over the King made sense to her. She was surprised that her father could actually see that, and the idea of moving North was not something she was looking forward to.

She quietly sat in her seat looking out over the bay lost in thought when her grandmother, Lady Olenna, sat down with her in the pavilion. Her grandmother was a very small lady with white hair. She walked with a cane, and claimed to be near deaf, though she knew that not to be true. Her grandmother’s senses were as acute as they’ve always been. To many, she was called the Queen of Thorns, for her sharp wit and barbed tongue. Her grandmother eyed her with a smile as she sat down. “Something wrong, my dear?

Margaery smiled politely at her. “Nothing grandmother, only enjoying the gardens.”

Her grandmother scoffed at the notion. “Please, I’ve been doing this for far longer than you have my dear. Even here in these green gardens one cannot hide from the smell of shit in this city.”

Margaery smiled to herself. She never could get one over on her grandmother. One of their servants came in with a tray full of fruits, and nuts. Margaery leaned forward and took a piece of melon for herself from off the table. “Leave us,” Lady Olenna said to the few servants and guards that occupied the pavilion with them. Margaery smiled politely at all the servants as they made their exit.

“You have reservations about the Stark boy,” Her grandmother stated, already knowing what she was thinking about.

Margaery didn’t tear her eyes from the horizon and didn’t answer her. She knew better than to try and say otherwise.

“I know the North isn’t the most desirable place to live. It’s cold, desolate, poor, and those are some of its better qualities. But, they’ve given us a good offer, better than most. It may not be what you would want, but its far safer than what your fool oaf of a father wanted for you.”

Her grandmother leaned forward on the table picking up a strawberry on the fruit tray that rested on the table in-between them. “To think, he was going to hold out until he could make you the Queen.” Olenna scoffed as if it was the stupidest thing she’s ever heard. “I told him how ridiculous that was. A Queen, the King already has. A son, the King already has, two in fact. Your father is more likely to start a war, or cause you to be assassinated before you ever become Queen.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Margaery said with a light laugh.

Olenna looked at her and smiled. “That’s because you’re not a fool like your father, or fool brother. It may have been possible to make you Queen with a match to the crown prince Joffrey, but he is set to marry the Stark girl. That’s what happens when you are on the wrong side of the war. To the victor go the spoils, not the other way around. Your father has a hard time learning that.”

“But the Starks? The North? I will be the Lady of…Nothing,” she stated.

“The North makes up quite a large part of the Kingdom, I’d hardly call that nothing,” Olenna said.

Margaery rolled her eyes at her grandmother. “You know what I mean,”

“Yes, I do, my child. It’s not the most profitable of matches for us, this is true, but it is a safe one. I suppose Renly would be the best match for you, at first glance, anyway. He is the King’s brother, and Lord of Storm’s End, but, even with all of that, he is still only a third son, and still only a brother to a King. Who’s to say when Tommen Baratheon comes of age the King suddenly decides to give his son the Lordship of Storm’s End, and not his youngest brother.”

“You truly think that will happen?” Margaery asked.

“Stranger things have happened. Gods know Renly will have a hard enough time producing an heir. What happens to us when the Lannister Queen and Baratheon King want their son to inherit the Stormlands, who’s to say no to them? Do you think the Stormlands will follow Renly over Robert?

“No,” Margaery answered

Ollena smiled “Which leaves us alone in a war against the King without any other major supporters. Your father, against King Robert Baratheon, and Lord Tywin Lannister? Oh, don’t make me laugh, my dear. If we wait for Tommen to come of age, you will be well past your best years. Trust me, the twenty-five-year-old unwed Margaery Tyrell, will not be as attractive of a match as the eighteen-year-old Margaery Tyrell. Just look at Arianne Martel. There is a reason she is still unwed, because the Martell’s waited too long,” her grandmother told her.

Her grandmother always had a way of showing her different ways of looking at things. She didn’t know enough about Robert to judge whether that would happen or not. But if she herself were the Queen, that’s exactly what she would want to do. She would pressure Robert until it was her own son inheriting, not the brother. Margaery wouldn’t be surprised if Queen Cersei wasn’t plotting to remove Renly from his seat of Storm’s End already.

“The Starks rule over the North however, is near absolute. They’ve been around for thousands of years, and your boy is half Tully. You may never be a Queen to a Baratheon, but with our new allegiance with the Starks, and with our new positions within in the capital, we will have plenty of room to grow,” Olenna stated.

Margaery exhaled in acceptance. It did make sense to her, but for some reason Margaery had the feeling there was something else, something her grandmother wasn’t telling her, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. The Starks had the influence with the King, and now with her father’s backing, that would most likely remain. And as long as that was the was the status quo, House Tyrell would rise with them. She just wished it didn’t have to involve her moving North for that to happen.

"Now, if this boy of yours is anything like his father, and from what I hear tis' the case. Then he will be an honest lad, honest, and honorable. Which means . . . he will be a fool," She said sharply, which caused Margaery to laugh out loud.

Olenna sighed in resignation before continuing. "But a capable fool, and a fool men will follow, even to death." Olenna stood up and held her hand out for Margaery to take. The two women began walking through the grounds of the garden with their arms linked.

"A fool can be easily swayed, if one knows the right cord to play. And you my dear, play a very, very, sweet tune indeed," Olenna said touching Margaery's nose with affection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading
> 
> Cheers


	7. Seven

They would arrive today. After over a month of traveling, they would finally arrive at their destination. At least that’s what uncle Edmure said. Bran was starting to get worried because the sun was starting to set, and the sky was beginning to turn orange. Ever since they entered the Riverlands, time seemed to fly by for Bran. Each day there was a new sight on the road, a new merchant selling his goods, a new stream or field to gaze at, a new scent in the air. Each day was a brand new adventure, and now they were so close to the end of the journey, but really, it was only the beginning. Bran couldn’t wait to take on all of the brand new adventures he was sure to have here in the capital.

Their company of Northern lords had been bolstered when they reached the Inn at the Crossroads. The heir to Riverrun, Edmure Tully, had joined them with many noble houses from the Riverlands. Bran recognized many of the sigils and houses from his lessons with Maester Luwin. The Mallister Eagle, the dancing maiden of House Piper, the Red Salmon of House Mooton, the Red Stallion of House Bracken, the dead Weirwood surrounded by a flock ravens of House Blackwood, and many more had joined them on the road to King’s Landing. There were also some noble houses from the Vale who had joined their company. Yahn Royce, of Runestone Bran had recognized right away. Lord Royce was a friend of his father, and Bran remembered him when he visited Winterfell with his son, Waymar. Along with House Royce, they were accompanied by members of, House Waynwood, House Hunter, House Redfort, and House Hardyng, but not aunt Lysa Arryn, which Bran thought was strange. If uncle Edmure was coming for Robb’s wedding, why wasn’t aunt Lysa? It didn’t make sense.

Bran was riding on his horse at the front of the company, as he had for the majority of the journey. He liked riding at the front because he wanted to be the first one to see all the new sights. Now that they were so close to the Capital, he wasn’t going to be denied being the first one to see the city. Robb rode beside him, while Grey Wind and Summer walked between them. Robb had barely let him out of his sight the entire way down, and had been even more overprotective since he nearly lost control of his horse in the Riverlands. That had been one of the most embarrassing things to ever happen to him. Not only did he lose control of his horse, which was embarrassing enough, but then, Robb scolded him in front of the entire company, which made it even more humiliating.

Robb for most of the journey had acted like the Lord, and not the brother. He always maintained his lord persona when they were around the other lords of the North, which had been nearly all the time. Robb talked with every member of their company, getting to know all of them on his own account. “Know the men who follow you,” Bran remembered father tell Robb once. “And let them know you. Don’t ask your men to die for a stranger.”

Robb seemed to take father’s advice to heart, and spent most of his time getting to know everyone, especially, Dacey Mormont of Bear Island. Robb talked to her nearly every day. It was only when they were alone, did Robb let his guard down around him. Some nights, Robb would go over some sword techniques with him and they would stay up well into the night practicing. Other nights they would look up at the stars telling stories to one another, and talk of what they would do together when they reached King’s Landing. Those were some of Bran’s favorite nights on the journey, when it was just him, Robb, and the direwolves, under the stars.

“Do you smell that?” Robb asked with disgust blowing air out of his nose.

Bran took a sniff of the air and soon found what his brother was talking about. It smelt like his horse just took a big crap in the middle of the road. Bran had to move a hand to plug up his nose to cover up the foul stench.

“What is that? It smells awful,” Bran said. He could hear how different his voice sounded with his nose plugged up.

There was a chorus of laughter coming from the Riverlords who were following behind them. “That, my dear nephews, is the scent of King’s Landing. That’s how you know we are close, you can always smell the city before you see it,” Edmure said, with a laugh from behind them. Uncle Edmure was of medium height, and had a stocky build. He wore red and grey leathers, with a blue cape draped over his shoulders. The leaping silver trout of House Tully were embroidered brightly on his chest.

“Does it always smell like that?” Bran asked, turning around in his horse to look at his uncle.

Edmure smiled through his thick red beard. “I’m afraid so, nephew, I’m afraid so,”

“Still excited to see the capital?” Robb asked with a smile, still blowing air out of his nose trying not to breath in the horrible scent wafting in the air.

Bran kept a hand on his nose trying to block out the strong smell as well. He turned back to look at the road in front of him, hoping to see the city come into view soon. There was no way the city always smelled this bad, could it? How could people stand to live somewhere that smelled so… so… shitty.

Bran was brought out of his thoughts when he saw something in the far distance. He squinted his eyes, and moved his hand from his nose to his forehead in order to block out the sun. In the distance there was a large company of men approaching them, all of them on horseback. Then he saw the banners. There was the crowned Stag of Baratheon, the Lion of Lannister, the Golden Rose of House Tyrell, and then he saw them, large banners of a grey direwolf on a field of ice coming straight for him.

“Father!!” Bran yelled out in with glee.

All thoughts of the bad smell in his nose were gone when he caught sight of his father riding straight for him. He kicked his horse forward and galloped as fast as he could, with Summer right on his heels.

His father stopped in the middle of the road, and dismounted from his horse when he saw him coming towards him. Bran rode until he was only a few feet away from him. He dismounted from his horse and ran right into his father’s open arms.

“I’ve missed you, father,” Bran said, hugging him as hard as he could. He was filled with a flood of emotions, he hadn’t seen him for far too long, and hadn’t realized how much he missed him until now. When he opened his eyes again he felt tears, but he didn’t care, he felt completely… safe.

“I’ve missed you too, Bran,” Eddard Stark said, his deep resounding voice was comforting to hear again.

His father let go of him, and put him back down on the ground. As soon as he put him down, Summer leaned his front paws on Eddard Stark’s shoulders, and tried to imitate Bran. The silvery grey furred large direwolf stood on his hind legs, and began licking the Warden of the North, and Hand of the King, with wild abandon, while his tail frantically moved back and forth.

“Summer missed you too, father!” Bran yelled with joy.

Eddard Stark laughed softly, trying to push the affectionate direwolf off of him. “I can see that,” he said.

“I forgot how big he’s gotten,” Father said, finally breaking free from Summer’s licking attack.

Bran looked around and finally noticed the others with him. As soon as Bran saw his father, he had zeroed right in on him and hadn’t noticed anyone else. Jory was here looking on with a smile and nod, as well as other members of father’s household guard, but he didn’t see Arya or Sansa. Bran was a little disappointed they weren’t here. There were others here as well, some he recognized, others he didn’t. Many looked on warily at the large direwolf in front of them. There were two men on horseback behind his father that Bran didn’t recognize. One had long black hair and wore a golden tunic. The other was the most beautiful man he had ever seen. He had long flowing brown hair and golden eyes. Bran had thought he was a girl at first, but then noticed the sword at his hip.

“Hello, father, it’s good to see you again,” Bran turned when he heard Robb’s voice. He had been so distracted trying to figure out who everyone else was, he didn’t even notice his brother and the rest of his company coming up behind him. Robb dismounted from his horse and embraced their father in a strong hug. Grey Wind stood vigilant off to the side looking on, a stark contrast to his litter mate.

“It’s good to see you, both of you. I trust the road wasn’t too difficult.” father said looking past Robb, and nodding his head to Edmure Tully, and the other members in their company.

“It was fine, father. Although, it was very slow,” Robb answered.

“Yes, the Kingsroad can be like that,” father said.

Bran turned when father’s household guard made way for more men on horseback coming in from behind them. King Robert came riding up to them flanked by two men in all white. The King was mounted on a black stallion wearing black and gold velvet, followed closely by Ser Barristan Selmy, and Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard. Robert then dismounted from his horse and walked right up to them. Bran was always amazed by just how massive King Robert was. He looked more like a bear than a man. He stood well over six feet tall, and his shoulders were about a mile wide. Bran had to tilt his head back in order to look at his face when he came up close to him.

“Glad to see you boys finally made it,” King Robert said with a smile through his thick black beard. “I know how slow the road can be, and how bloody annoying it is,” King Robert said.

The King looked down at Bran and smiled, giving him a pat on the head, and then giving his bicep a squeeze. Bran flexed his muscles as hard as he could to seem stronger for the King. “That’s good, you’ve been practicing,” Robert said in approval.

The King then turned to Robb, and eyed him from head to toe. “You’ve gotten stronger, been practicing in that plate like I told you? Nothing works the muscles harder as a few hours a day in that stuff,” Robert said approvingly at him, and then gave Robb a firm handshake, and a hard pat on the shoulder. “That’s a strong grip you have there, son. You’ll do well in the tournament with a grip like that,” Robert said with approval. Robb’s eyes lit up, and grinned when the King mentioned the Tournament.

Father shook his head in disapproval at the prospect of Robb in the tournament. “That’s something we will discuss later, Robert.” Father said, clearly uncomfortable with the idea.

Robert then gripped Robb’s shoulder again firmly. “Piss on that, Ned. Look at these shoulders, the boy has those strong Stark shoulders. He could probably put me on his back and be perfectly fine,” Robert said with a laugh. Robb smiled uneasily at the thought of that prospect. Robert let out a booming laugh at Robb’s expression. “Don’t worry, lad. I won’t make you put that theory to the test,” Robert said patting him on the back.

“Robert, you know how I feel about Tournaments, I don’t want…” Father said with agitation in his voice.

“Aww, C’mon, Ned. If he’s old enough to marry the Tyrell girl, he’s old enough to smack some fools off a damned horse.”

“I..” Father began but was cut off by Robert.

“We’ll camp here tonight. I could go a day without seeing that bloody city. We’ll have a proper welcome without all the women around to nag us. Tonight it will be just men, drinks, stories. How does that sound boys?” Robert asked them.

Bran looked up at Robb, and the two brothers smiled at each other before turning back to their King. “Sounds like fun,” They both said at the same time.

King Robert smiled before moving away from them and began barking orders to set up camp.

Father shook his head in annoyance at the King. “Looks like we’ll be camping here for the night. You’ll see your sisters in the morning.”

* * *

 

The sun had set when they had finally set up camp just off the Kingsroad on the outskirts of the city. The moon glowed a dark orange in the sky with only a few passing clouds. The lights in the city of King’s Landing glittered like fireflies in the far off distance.

Bran loved the way the city looked from this distance, and he couldn’t wait until he got to see what everything looked like up close. It may not smell pretty, but it certainly looked like what a capital should from this distance.

Bran was sitting at a table with Robb, Father, and King Robert outside of the King’s tent. Tables were set up all along the side of the Kingsroad for the company to feast. Directly in front of the King’s table there was a large fire burning with a pig roasting on it. The scent of roasted pork had drowned out the foul smells of the city in the distance. Along with the salted pork, they were served a myriad of different foods all evening. Freshly caught grilled salmon, chicken breast marinated in a lemon basil zest and also various fruits and vegetables, many of which Bran had never seen before. The best part of the meal however, was the wine. Father was letting him have more wine then was normally allowed tonight. It was called arbor gold, and it tasted sweet as nectar to the tongue. Bran could defiantly get used to this.

At the end of each side of the table stood a member of the Kingsguard. Ser Barristan Selmy stood to the right, and Ser Jaime Lannister to the left. “Then the fools thought they could rally a force without my knowledge,” King Robert said. “I corrected them quickly,” King Robert was telling the tale of his victory at Summerhal. They weren’t even in the city yet, and Bran was already enjoying every minute of his time in the capital.

“Lord Fell thought himself clever. He tried to rally them at Summerhall, but I arrived before they could gather to full force. One after the other I marched and defeated each army separately, all in the same day, the same bloody day! Gods, that was a glorious day! It was then, when sun was starting to set, and there was barley any light left, I met Lord Fell in single combat! We rode up on each other on horseback. He was dressed in a heavy mail set, but it didn’t matter. I came charging in with my Warhammer in one hand, and my horses reigns in the other,” Robert paused taking another sip of the golden arbor wine. He was getting carried away with his story, and part of the wine missed his mouth and sullied his thick black beard. Bran didn’t care, he looked on at awe at King Robert waiting on edge of his seat to hear the rest.

King Robert wiped his mouth once before beginning again. “With one swing I brought down the hammer! Gods, I was strong then!” Robert roared. “I smashed in his helmet, crushing his stupid bloody face into smithereens!”

Bran turned his head notching the large Warhammer sitting on display for all to see outside of his tent. It looked to be the size of a mammoth’s tusk. To be able to lift that with one hand would require incredible strength. Bran would have loved to be able to see King Robert in action with his Warhammer.

“What happened next!” Bran asked awestruck by the King.

The King roared in laughter, taking a big bite of chicken breast on his plate and washing it down with more wine. “Then, my boy, Lord Fell, fell, from his horse, and I took his men into my army, including his own son, Silveraxe. And then, drunk with victory, we marched on the Reach!” Robert exclaimed loudly with a booming voice, slamming his fist down on the table shaking everything on it in the process, and knocking over a few things.

“Damn it, Lancel! Get out here and fix this!” Robert roared out loudly. On cue a young lad with blonde hair and green eyes came rushing out of the King’s tent. The young squire was a few years older than Bran, thirteen or fourteen he measured. He wore a rich velvet doublet with the lion of Lannister sewn onto the shoulders sleeves. He looked very similar to Ser Jaime Lannister.

Lancel immediately began picking up the things the king had knocked over on the table. Robert reached for his cup and took another swig of his wine. “Lancel… Lancel Lannister. Gods, what a stupid name. Who named you? Some half-wit with a stutter?” Robert said with a self-amusing laugh to himself at the boy’s expense. The insult of the boy caused him shake nervously, and Lancel accidentally knocked over one of the burning candles onto the King’s plate, pouring molten wax all over his food.

“You damned fool!” Robert said glowering at the young squire through furrowed eyebrows.

Bran would normally feel sorry if someone was getting yelled at. He remembered how embarrassed he had been when Robb yelled at him on the Kingsroad, but Bran also remembered Lancel from Winterfell. What stuck out most vividly was the way the Lannister squire had ignored him completely during his stay.

“I’m sorry, your grace,” Lancel replied with a stutter, the one from which he apparently got from the person who named him. Lancel immediately began trying to clean the King’s plate, but Robert waved him off. “Forget it boy, just leave it, you’ve done enough damage. I’ll save my wine while I can,” Robert said picking up his goblet of wine and taking another sip. The King then turned his attention onto Bran.

“Have you met Brandon Stark? Lannister?” Robert asked.

Lancel turned his head, and regarded him for maybe the first time ever. “N.. Not directly, your... your... grace,” Lancel stammered again, eyeing Bran suspiciously.

“You best get used to him then. He’s going to be a new squire for me. A Stark should be able to knock some sense into you two Lannister idiots. And perhaps, I’ll feel a bit safer at night once I have a wolf guarding my door, and not a lion.” Robert said loud enough so Ser Jaime Lannister could hear him at the end of the table. Ser Jaime turned his head slightly regarding him, but his face didn’t reveal any emotion to the Kings words. Robert then turned back to father and then onto Bran and Robb. “For they are far more loyal,” Robert said with respect.

Bran beamed, he couldn’t wait until it was his turn to become a knight of the Kingsguard. It was what he had always dreamed of one day becoming. He couldn’t wait to begin his sword lessons with Ser Barristan the Bold. Robert then sent Lancel away and took another sip of his drink and breaking off a piece of chicken leg that was still unsullied by the candle wax.

“Now, where did my brother run off to with that Knight of Flowers? I swear those two have been attached to the hip since the Tyrells arrived,” Robert asked.

“They went back to the city, remember, your grace?” Father told him.

“That boy never did like to rough it. Cersei keeps pressuring me to…Nevermind,” Robert began, before turning to Robb with a wide smile. “You’ll be thanking your father when you see who he’s betrothed you to. Did you get a good look at Ser Loras before he ran off with my brother?” Robb nodded his head in response to the King.

“Lads prettier than half the girls in the capital. Picture that with nice hips and tits, and you have his sister. You’re going to have fun with her,” Robert said with a grin that nearly stretched across the entire table.

Robb smiled and took a sip of wine. “I’m looking forward to meeting her.”

“You’ll be looking forward to bedding her once you get a good look at her!” Robert said with a loud laugh.

“Robert,” Father said with slightly annoyed tone of voice.

“I’m only telling the lad the truth, Ned. Ha! I’ll be surprised if the two will be able to keep their hands off each other before the wedding.” Robert said with a loud laugh before beginning again. “Her father, on the other hand, is a man I can live without. One of the biggest oafs I’ve ever met in my life. Thank the gods he stayed at the keep. I can’t stand the sight of his pompous face. I’ll never understand why you wanted him on the council, Ned,” Robert said shaking his head with disgust and tearing into his chicken leg. The King was getting louder and louder the more the night wore on. And the longer the night wore on, the more the King drank.

“We need the Reach, Robert.” Ned answered him.

Robert picked up his goblet of wine and downed the rest of it in a single sip. “That doesn’t mean they need a bloody seat on the council. I can’t stand that Tyrell fool. He walks like a damned woman, swaying his hips from side to side like that. Men walk with their shoulders, not their bloody hips! Mace Tyrell, Master of Ships, pah! I was thankful he was in charge of the Reach during the rebellion. If he had chased me north after Ashford like any sane commander would have, the whole war may have ended entirely differently. But he didn’t, and that just proved his inability to act! He’s a bloody craven, Ned! And you want him in charge of my Navy!?” Robert yelled out.

“He has the resources we need, Robert. We’ve already gone over this,” Father told him.

Robert rolled his eyes and drowned himself in another cup of wine. “If you insist, but don’t tell me I didn’t warn you when he fucks up, Ned.” Robert continued.

Robb took another sip of his wine looking uneasily between father and King Robert. Bran took another sip of his wine and suddenly let out a loud yawn. “Getting tired, Bran?” Robb asked him.

“No, I’m wide awake,” Bran replied sitting up quickly in his seat, but when he did, he wished he hadn’t. His head started to feel dizzy by the sudden movement, and he had to grip the table to keep from falling off his chair.

“I think it may be time for bed, Bran,” Father told him. He motioned his head to Robb directing him to take Bran away from the table.

“No, please, father can I stay? I want to hear more stories about the war,” Bran pleaded.

“There will be plenty of time for that, Bran. You need your rest,” Father answered. Bran wanted to protest further, but Robb was already standing behind his seat, and lifted him out of the chair and stood him to his feet.

“Sleep well, lad,” King Robert said.

Robb and Bran both bowed their heads to the King before departing his company. Bran felt like the whole world was spinning on a top when he started to move his feet. When he took a step forward, it felt like he was going to fall off the face of the earth. Robb seemed to notice and gripped his shoulders, helping him to walk straight so he wouldn’t fall down.

Everything around him was spinning. There was noise in the background, but everything was fuzzy, and he couldn’t make out any details. He faintly heard people laughing, and noticed some lords sitting at other tables as he passed by them, but his entire world was a blur.

When they arrived at their tent, Bran stumbled through the entrance unable to keep his balance any longer. He spotted to his right a deer hide with a bunch of furs over top of it, and an assortment of pillows. It looked like as good a spot as any for a crash landing. His head hit the pillows with a thud, and the fur felt comfy on his stomach.

“Not tired, huh?” Robb said with a slightly amused laugh.

Bran turned over to say something, but suddenly felt sick. His head started sweating, and it felt like everything was crashing all around him. “I don’t feel so good,” Bran moaned out to his brother.

“Uh oh, I know that look,” Robb said. Robb then quickly scoured the room and picked up a big bucket and dumped out the contents outside of the tent before rushing back in and shoving it besides him. Robb then lifted him so he was sitting up and leaning over the bucket. It was then it all came crashing out, he threw up everything that he had for dinner. He felt horrible, and he couldn’t stop heaving into the bucket. He felt Robb pat him on the back as he continued his heaving. When he was done, he felt a little bit better, but his head was still spinning and his mouth tasted like barf.

“Here, drink this water. It will make you feel better,” Robb told him holding out a cup of liquid.

Bran took it and drank it all down quickly. The water washed away his dry throat, and the disgusting aftertaste of barf in his mouth. He then lied back down on the furs and put his head on the pillows. “I don’t know what happened. I was fine at the table, but as soon as I got up, I felt dizzy,” Bran said holding a hand over his head with his eyes shut.

Robb sat down by his feet, and wrapped the furs closer around him. “That’s what happens when you drink too much, Bran. One minute your fine, the next, your throwing up in a piss bucket. You’re lucky you held it in until we got in the tent. Otherwise that would have been quite the display for all the other lords out there.” Robb told him.

“Why do people drink so much if this is what happens?” Bran asked.

Robb laughed softly and put a hand on Bran’s forehead. “That is a good question. One that doesn’t have just one answer. Now, get some sleep. You may find yourself waking up with a headache tomorrow, but that’s normal. Just rest, drink water, eat some breakfast, and you should be good as new,” Robb told him. Bran groaned even more at the prospect of this horrible feeling lingering until the morning.

“I am never drinking that much ever again,” Bran said through a moan.

“Smart man. Now get some sleep. I have a feeling we are going to have another long day tomorrow.”

Moments ago the thought of sleep was the worst thing in the world, now, all’s he wanted to do was close his eyes and have the world stop spinning.

“Goodnight, brother,” Bran said wrapping the furs around himself even more, turning over in the hide, and burying his face into his pillow.

“Goodnight, little brother,” Robb said.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading
> 
> Cheers


	8. eight

There was a loud yelling coming up from the streets below. The sound of raucous men was something he was growing more accustomed to these past few months.

Tyrion looked out the window from the two story building watching a group of drunk men fighting in the middle of the streets. Even at this hour of the night, the taverns were full and bursting with life. With all of extra people coming into the Capital from all over the realm, fights such as these were becoming more frequent within the city. Tyrion turned back to his book in front of him trying to focus back on his story, but failed at focusing in on the words. The words started to bleed together on the page, and he found it impossible to keep his eyes open. His breathing heightened quickly, and it then like a flood it came crashing into him, that feeling of ecstasy washing over his entire body.

“Was that better than your book, lord Tyrion,” a sultry voice spoke from behind the pages. Tyrion laughed and tossed his book entitled _The Tragedy at Summerhall_ off to the side of the bed. The sapphire eyed brunette smiled up at him with his essence still slightly on her lips. She curled up beside him in the bed and took a sip of wine that was on the nightstand. Littlefinger’s brothel never did disappoint with beautiful women. He enjoyed reading a book while she did her work with her mouth. Sapphire here was one of his preferences here in Littlefinger’s brothel, and was one of the most expensive whores in the city. He enjoyed her company not only for her beauty and voluminous body, but being a high priced whore sometimes meant seeing high priced cliental. Tyrion loved hearing what she may have accidently overheard in these dissolute halls.

“It defiantly felt better, my jewel,” Tyrion told her. Sapphire got up from the bed and looked out the window watching the fighting between the drunk men. Tyrion took a moment to admire her naked body in the moonlight. She arched her back so he could view her soft skinned apple bottom at just the right angle.

“There’s been more of them boys fightin these days, m’lord.” She said.

“and it will continue for a while until the tournament ends,” Tyrion sat up in his bed and looked out the window to watch the fighting with his bed mate. A number of goldcloak city watchmen were already descending on the group breaking it up. Tyrion looked on in approval at them. The new city watch commander was already showing an improvement in security. Under Janos Slynt that brawl probably would’ve gone on unnoticed by the goldcloaks completely. The change in command in the city watch still had Cersei frothing at the mouth. Her behavior towards the change made it obvious Slynt had been in her pocket, and now he was all but useless to her. He had to admit, the move made him a bit nervous as well. It felt like Lord Stark was preparing for something, and it wasn’t just the winter.

Sapphire turned back to him with a smile. She slunk back down on the bed and started moving her finger up his chest playfully. “I hear Lord Stark’s sons have arrived. The city is all abuzz about direwolves roaming the streets of King’s Landing. Is it true that they have direwolves bigger then horses?”

Tyrion gave her a half amused grin. She looked at him with big eyes hoping he knew the answer. “The boys do have direwolves, but they aren’t as big as horses. Still large though, and still capable of ripping an arm off a man with ease.”

She looked up at the ceiling. “I’ve always wanted to see a direwolf. They say Robb Stark is handsome and strong, with blue eyes like mine that shine like the bay in sunlight.” She said with a sense of longing in her voice.

Tyrion smiled at her, but could feel the twinge of jealousy come over him. Even here in these establishments he was looked over for the handsome lords with wicked smiles and muscled arms. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t think Robb Stark will find his way to this lovely establishment. He has his father’s morals, a pity, I know. Although, the Greyjoy accompanying him is a different story. He is the heir to Pike and the Iron Islands. I can send him your way if you so desire,” Tyrion said before he gave her a playful slap on the bum. She squealed in delight by his actions. Tyrion often recommended lords to see his friend sapphire here, in hopes to learn a secret or two about them. _I wonder what Theon Greyjoy actually does think about his wolf captures? Would he share something with Sapphire here?_

“I hear the King himself rode out to greet them.” She said continuing to draw circles up and down his chest.

Tyrion nodded his head. “That he did. King Robert is very fond of our Northern allies,” Tyrion told her.

“I hear the Northman are big and bold, and that they turn into wolves at night…I don’t know if that Highgarden girl can handle such a man,” she said giving him another dreamy smile.

“What else have those little ears of your heard, my jewel? Only talk of direwolves on the tongues of men tonight?” Tyrion asked innocently.

Sapphire reached for her cup of wine and gave him a not so innocent smile. “You promise not to tell, lord Tyrion?”

“You know I never do,” Tyrion answered her.

“That’s what I love about you, Tyrion. You are the best listener in the Kingdoms, and my favorite lover. I did see a rich merchant today, all the way from Qarth. He told me a girl showed up at the gates of Qarth coming out of the Red Waste, and was carrying with her, three baby dragons.”

Tyrion looked at her with a face with a bit of bewilderment. That was a new one, he’s heard some tales before, but dragons and direwolves in the same night? As far-fetched as the idea of dragons was, the story wasn’t entirely useless. If any part of it was true it meant that the Targaryen girl still lives. “Dragons and direwolves, what a fearsome combo that would make,” Tyrion said playfully to her.

“I wonder if it’s true. Dragons existed once before, what if they are returning, m’lord?” She said with that same look of wonder in her eyes. He wondered which was the worse curse, to be pretty and ignorant, or ugly and wise? He supposed one tended to feed the other. “It could be so, who doesn’t like tales of dragons to fly you away from wherever it is you are and take you someplace wonderful. But, I’d sooner believe my father name me his heir.” Tyrion told her.

“Never say never, m’ lord. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll get to ride a dragon with you, m’ lord, but until then.” She started to say before she mounted on top of him and bucked her hips at his waist. He felt himself get rock hard again at her stomach. “I’ll settle for riding a lion,” She said biting his ear and plunging herself down onto him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When they were done, she rolled off of him and he tried to settle down his breathing. “That was a splendid performance, my jewel. You were rather brilliant tonight,” Tyrion said. He got up from the bed and searched for his clothes.

“I was inspired,” she said blowing him a kiss. She was lying with her face down and back up arching her back in the way he loved so he could view everything. He put on his clothes and tossed her a gold coin. “Thank you, m’ lord, you are the only one who tips with gold,” She said to him. He gave her an amused smile before tossing her another one. “And this one’s for the story,” He said, even if it was as preposterous as dragons, an extra coin here or there would make her be willing to give up more of those tales she hears, relevant or not. “Until, next time, my dear,” he said bowing her head in respect to her.

“I’ll be waiting, m’lord,” She said to him. Tyrion picked up his book and then walked out of the room and started making his way down the stairs. His two guards were already done with their entertainment tonight and were waiting for him in the lobby. Tyrion always treated his escort guards to low rent whores while he was occupied with sapphire. It made them a bit more talkative and friendly towards him. “You boys have fun, I know I did,” Tyrion said with whistling a tune as he walked up to them.

“Yes, my lord. We love having your detail, my lord. The Queen never treats us like you do,” The one guard told him. _You probably shouldn’t say that out loud._

“I’m glad you boys had a good time. I think it’s time we head back to the keep. I have a candle by my widow I want to burn out before the dawn,” Tyrion said.

His guards nodded to him and they started to make their exit, but as soon as they were about to leave, an angry man came bursting through the doors holding a large scimitar in his hands. The Lannister guards immediately brought out their swords protecting him, but the man with the scimitar didn’t even acknowledge Tyrion’s presence. The man stomped through the lobby in heavy wet boots yelling loudly. “Where is that fucking cunt! I know you’re in here! Come out you fookin cunt!” The man yelled out through the brothel. The few girls that were in the lobby with them screamed in fear at this man. He had on a feathered hat and had light brown skin with a dark goatee. His left eye was covered by an eyepatch, and had a scar at his neck. “Littlefinger! Get your fooking ass out here! We gots some business we need settled!” The angry eyepatched man yelled out again.

Littlefinger came rushing out from behind a beaded curtain doorway. “Hayreddin! Please come in. I know, I’m sorry about the new tax, but there is nothing I can…” Littlefinger started to say but the man pulled his scimitar up and brought it to Littlefinger’s throat. “Unless the next words that come out of your mouth are “you have my money” I will cut your throat here and now!”

“I’d put that sword down if you knew what was best for you.” Tyrion stated to the man. The scimitar man eyed Tyrion and his two guardsmen but kept the blade at Littlefinger’s throat. “Who are you supposed to be,” Hayreddin said before turning back to Littlefinger. “I knew you were a depraved individual, Bealish, that was the reason I did business with you, but dwarfs? You have horrible taste in fantasies.”

“You are speaking to Tyrion Lannister of Casterly Rock, pirate scum! Now put down that blade or I will cut your balls off and feed them to your crew!” Tyrion’s guard shouted.

The man eyed Tyrion and his guards but kept his blade at Littlefinger’s throat. “I’m a merchant, toad.” He said turning back to Littlefinger. “I was taxed double from the last time I made port here, Baelish. We had an understanding!” He yelled out.

Littlefinger held up his hands trying to calm everything down displaying submissive body language. “My lords, there is no need for violence, we can settle this amicably.” Baelish said, before snapping his fingers quickly. When he did that, two girls, a blonde and redhead came out of the back room clad only in their birthday suits. "Some of my best for your inconvenience about today. I should have informed you about the new tax now enforced by the Hand of the King.”

Hayreddin dropped the sword and eyed the naked woman with lust in his eyes as they stared at him enticingly. “Perhaps we can come to some sort of agreement,” Hayreddin said. It truly was amazing watching the power the female body had over a male. He had just been on the precipice of murder, and now, he was being guided back into a side room of the brothel.

Littlefinger adjusted his black velvet doublet after the man roughed it up bit. Tyrion smiled at Littlefinger and nodded his head to him. “Friend of yours?” Tyrion asked with amusement. He was about to leave, but catching Littlefinger off guard was too much fun to walk away from now. “I now see how you’ve managed all these years, Baelish. You have women do all of your fighting for you,” Tyrion told him with a chuckle.

Littlefinger looked down at him with a calculating smile and a slight gleam in his eye. “We do what works for us, Lannister. Not all of us have a legendary brother in the Kingsguard looking out for us,” Littlefinger said. Littlefinger then started to exit the lobby and motioned for Tyrion to follow. “I shouldn’t be long, wait for me here boys,” Tyrion told his guards.

Tyrion followed Littlefinger through the halls of the brothel and back towards one of his private rooms. When Tyrion stepped in he smelled a combination of incense and lemons. It did a good job of blocking out the scent of musky sex in the brothel. Littlefinger plopped down on the sofa in the room and reached for a grape on the lounge table. Tyrion sat across from him in the sofa across from him as Littlefinger poured them each a goblet of wine.

“I apologize for that display, my lord Lannister. Hayreddin there is a… business partner, of mine. He is just another merchant unhappy with the new tax law.”

Tyrion took a sip of the red wine and eyed him. _What kind of business partner, I wonder?_ “I hear many are losing business partners within the free cities because of it.”

Littlefinger answered by nodding his head. “The merchant’s guild is organizing a formal protest against it, or so I hear. The King is going to hear them after the wedding,” Littlefinger told him.

“The Hand of the King is going to hear them, you mean. Robert won’t sit down on that hearing,” Tyrion corrected him.

Littlefinger answered with a smile taking another grape from the fruit bowl. “I hear the merchants are threatening to refuse to pay the extra tax.”

Tyrion laughed. “That won’t last long. As soon as they see Lord Stark’s Valyrian steel greatsword, they’ll change their tune. The Starks aren’t known for shrinking on their duty when it comes to upholding the law.””

“They won’t be alone; a number of lords will be with them as well. It will be a coalition of merchants and lords against the tax.” Littlefinger said. Tyrion wondered who would be bold enough to protest openly against the tax lax.

“It won’t matter. With the Reach and Riverlands both on board with Stark, the Kingdom will be fed during the winter. That’s all the majority of people really care about, whether or not they have food. Most could care less about the happenings of the capital. The only ones who really stand to lose from this will be the wealthy merchants who deal in luxury items, and the lords who get cut in on the profits,” Tyrion told him.

Littlefinger smiled and toyed with his pointed beard chin beard. “You are right about that. It will be a new age in the capital to be sure, sooner than you might think,” Littlefinger finished eyeing him again with that calculating smile of his. It was obvious he knew something, but Tyrion doubted he was willing to share what it was. Littlefinger sat on the council, and knew the comings and goings of many here in the city. He may know what it was Lord Stark was preparing for, but Tyrion didn’t have anything to offer him in return for the information.

“Did you enjoy your time with sapphire tonight? She always inquiries about you.”

Tyrion leaned forward in the lounge and picked up a grape from the fruit tray as well. “She is very good at what she does.”

Baelish wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “That she is, and is very profitable for me. A sound investment, so far,”

Tyrion was aware Littlefinger kept tabs on everyone’s comings and goings within the capital. That was why he never asked sapphire about what Littlefinger did. Baelsih most likely had her reveal to him what those secrets were as well. Most lords in the Kingdoms will visit his brothels at least once during their time here. Tyrion hoped the next time he visited, sapphire will have much to say. Tyrion then stood to his feet to leave. “Baelish, until next time,” He told him.

Littlefinger stood up with him but moved to the front of the doorway to block his exit. “What will it take to keep what you just saw here tonight between us?”

Tyrion smiled a little to himself, that sentence was music to his ears. “That “merchant” friend of yours is more pirate than merchant, isn’t he? One simple word to my sister that you deal with pirates and…”

“Which is why I would appreciate your discretion about this evening,” Littlefinger replied.

Tyrion played with the light beard on his face before asking what he truly wanted to know. “What do you know of Lord Stark’s dealings?”

Littlefinger gave him an almost sinister smile. It felt like Littlefinger was only waiting for him to ask that question. “It’s what’s on his nightstand, is what I’d be more concerned about if I were you, Lannister.”

“What then?”

“A book, Lannister. He is reading a book. A very old, dusty, and thick book. The same one that Jon Arryn read before he died,” Littlefinger told him.

Tyrion gazed at him hoping beyond hope Littlefinger didn’t mean what he was implying, but somehow he knew it to be true. If so, then they were truly running out of time. “We never spoke,” Tyrion told him before leaving. He had to tell Jaime what he learned tonight. Tyrion had no real power here in the capital, but his siblings did. There was nothing like the threat of extinction that brought a family together, and wolves weren’t the only animal with claws.

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 

They had gotten back to the Tower after the dawn. Robert had kept his boys up all night regaling the battle of Summerhall; where Robert had won three victories in a single day. Ned was never one for retelling of battles. War was not something to be glorified. He’s buried too many friends and loved ones to from what war truly brings, death. Ned held a feast for all of the lords and ladies that had accompanied Robb and Bran on their journey in the Small Hall of the Tower of the Hand when they finally did make it to the Red-Keep. It had been a rousing occasion, as many lords had too much to drink after the long journey.

It was the following morning and the Starks were having a family breakfast in Ned’s Solar. Many of the Northern bannermen were having breakfast in the Small Hall this morning. Ned normally would eat with the rest of his bannermen, but he wanted to go over a few things with his children in private about what would be happening in the next few weeks.

His children all talked amongst each other while they ate at the small round table. The sound of his children’s laughter was like music in his ears. Ned sat in the middle with Robb on his right, Sansa sitting next to him. Arya sat to Ned’s left, while Bran was sitting in-between his two sisters. The boys direwolves were both in the solar with them as well. Bran ever so often would sneak Summer a piece of bacon from his plate, and Robb would pass down sausage to Grey Wind who was lying down under the table at his feet.

“Father, can we all go swimming today in the bay!? It can be a family adventure!” Bran said with a happy voice, his eyes full of hope. Ned smiled at Bran’s innocence, he had forgotten just how joyful Bran always was, and how much he had missed it. Bran had always wanted to come to the capital, and his dream had finally come true. Last night, Robert had agreed to bring Bran on as another squire. Ned felt almost felt guilty for bringing his son here. King’s Landing has a certain way of destroying innocence.

“Not today, Bran,” Ned said.

“Then, tomorrow?” Bran asked again quickly. Robb laughed softly under his breath while he ate his breakfast.

“We’ll see, Bran, but not today,” Ned restated.

“Will you enter the Tourney Robb!” Sansa asked looking at her older brother. Her vivid blue eyes exploding with excitement.

Robb took a drink of his juice, and nodded his head. “Theon is going to enter the Archery competition. I plan on entering the joust. The King said I could enter, I’m confident I can win,” Robb said turning towards Ned, with a cautiously hopeful look on his face.

Ned scowled slightly at the idea of it. He never did like tournaments. Far too many tragedies occur during them, and one tournament in particular had started a war. He was uncomfortable with the idea of Robb participating in the joust. “I don’t think you should enter, Robb. They can be dangerous,” Ned said.

Robb sat up straighter in his chair, and eyed him with a serious demeanor. Taking over duties as Lord of Winterfell in his absence has seemed to mature Robb. Robb carried himself differently now, it was something he had noticed almost immediately. Robb was never a shy youth, but now, the way he stood, the way he walked, even his tone of voice had become stronger, thicker, more purposeful, and far more confident. He sat up straight, and spoke directly with certain amount of fearlessness in his eyes. “I know they are, and I know you don’t like them, but I still want to enter. I’ll be careful, I know my limits,” Robb said.

“I know you’ve been riding and training for a long time now in Winterfell. But Robb, even the best get injured, and some are even killed participating in Tournaments,” Ned said trying to dissuade Robb. Confidence was good, and was needed to rule in the North. But overconfidence can become a hindrance if left unchecked. Hopefully Robb hadn’t grown too confident in that he wasn’t willing to listen.

“I know father. I understand that there are risks involved, but I can’t just sit back and watch, not when everyone else gets to participate. I want to be in it, not for the glory or gold, I could care less for that. I’ve been training my whole life, but that’s all it’s ever been, training. Here it will finally be real, and I can truly see where I stand. I only want to prove to myself that I can contend with the best,” Robb continued.

Ned sighed heavily. This was a childish notion, but Robb was clearly not going to let this go. “You should also be aware that some of the fiercest warriors are entering. Ser Gregor Clegane will be among the riders.”

“Ser Gregor!” Sansa shrieked in her seat. She quickly grabbed Robb’s arm, hugging it close to her chest and nearly pulling Robb off of his chair in the process. “He is the scariest and meanest man I’ve ever seen. He killed Ser Hugh of the Vale in the last Tourney! Then he tried to kill Ser Loras! Don’t enter brother, please!” Sansa cried out. The excitement that had just been in her eyes was replaced with fear.

Robb smiled softly at her, and gently freed his arm from her grip. “Don’t worry, Sansa. No one messes with your big brother,” Robb said with a wink and handsome smile, and then gave Sansa an affectionate shoulder pump. Sansa calmed down at Robb’s words, her smile returning to her face.

“Father, King Robert said Robb could enter. King Robert said if Robb is old enough to get married, he is old enough to participate,” Bran said coming to Robb’s defense.

Ned reluctantly sighed and relented. Robb was old enough now where he had to learn from making his own decisions. Making decisions and learning from those decisions was the only way he could grow. “I can see you have your mind set on this. I don’t like it, but if you want to enter this badly, then I won’t stop you,” Ned said.

Robb smiled, and exhaled looking at him appreciatively. “Thank you, father.”

“You can thank me tomorrow night,” Ned said.

Robb paused for a moment before turning back to him. “What’s happening tomorrow night?” Robb asked with curiosity written all over his face.

Ned eyed Sansa for a moment who was slightly blushing, a small smile gracing her features. He then noticed Arya roll her eyes, and let out a subtle groan from underneath her breath.

“We’re hosting a private dinner tomorrow night for…the Tyrells”, Ned said slowly gauging his son’s reaction. He remembered what it was like marrying a stranger. This marriage was important to their house. Ned was already hearing whispers of upset lords over the new tax law. It will be harder to enforce it without the support of the Reach, and now with winter officially coming, they would need House Tyrell’s support now more than ever.

“Oh…I see,” Robb said somewhat dejectedly, his shoulders slightly drooping as he said the words. Obviously the prospect of marriage wasn’t as thrilling as the prospect of entering into the Tournament.

“It will be a good opportunity for everyone to get better acquainted with each other,” Ned told him.

“When will we be married?” Robb asked.

“A fortnight from the Tournament. The Tournaments starts in three days. The King is holding a banquet feast the night before in the Great Hall to celebrate the beginning of it. Tomorrow night will be a good chance to make a good impression on lady Margaery, Robb. Be courteous, and respectful, and…”

“I know how to speak to girls, father.” Robb said with a slightly amused smile.

“Yes, I **know** you do,” Ned said eyeing Robb with a hard gaze. Robb caught his hard stare and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding his eyes by looking down at his plate of eggs and sausage. Eddard’s lady wife, Catelyn, had sent him a letter detailing just how “hospitable” Robb had been during another wedding that took place in Winterfell between two of their vassal houses.

Robb took a sip of his water, before clearing his throat somewhat awkwardly. “What is lady Margaery like?” Robb asked the table with a questioning eyebrow.

"She's stupid," Arya said quickly. Ned had to hide a smile at Arya’s immediate response. Arya hadn’t gotten along with lady Margaery the same way Sansa had.

"Arya!" Sansa cried out.

"Lady Margery is not stupid!" Sansa said, turning fully towards Robb, "She is beautiful, sweet, and kind. She has thick curling brown hair, and large brown eyes. She wears beautiful gowns that are made from Highgarden, only the best. She even had one made for me. When I spoke with her last, she told me she can’t wait to meet you!" Sansa kept going on. Ned smiled at Sansa. He was glad Sansa was getting along so well with Margaery. For the longest time Sansa had modeled herself after the Queen, wearing the same gowns, and similar hair styles. Now, her hair was done in the same fashion as lady Margaery. Ned thought that was a good unintended consequence from this marriage. Although, he didn’t quite like the style of dress lady Margaery was putting Sansa in.

Sansa was growing more womanly it seemed with each passing turn of the moon. She was already quite tall, and her bust was growing as large as her mother’s with each passing day. The new dresses that Sansa wore brought out her growing womanly assets, and it wasn’t something that sat well with him. Ned had caught quite a few lords at court taking longer than necessary passing looks at his daughter. It took every ounce of restraint in him to not throw each of them through walls whenever he caught them staring to long at her.

"Like I said, she is stupid," Arya said again with another eye roll, which made Robb smile at her and chuckle softly to himself.

Sansa huffed at her sister. "Arya is only angry because lady Margaery likes me more. She invited me to go hawking with her this afternoon. Don’t worry, I’ll spend all day talking up your good points to her for you. Oh, I can't wait until you marry her Robb, then she and I will be sisters!" Sansa said practically bouncing up and down in her seat.

"Aye, how wonderful, then you two can be stupid together," Arya said, making Bran spray all the food he was chewing out of his mouth. The chewed up eggs and orange juice got all over everything, and everyone at the table. Most of it however, landed directly on Sansa.

“Gross!! Bran!!” Sansa yelled out, picking pieces of food out of her face and hair.

Arya started laughing uncontrollably at Sansa in her seat. “Let’s see if your new **sister** will still like you looking like that, egg face,” Arya said with a snigger and mischievous smile. Robb and Bran both started laughing at Sansa’s new hair decoration.

“That is it!” Sansa shouted loudly with anger wiping the eggs off of her face. Sansa then picked up her apple juice and threw it at Arya sitting across from her. The liquid complexly drenched Arya’s hair and clothes.

Arya was about to fire back with her own cup when Ned slammed his fist down on the table. " **Enough**!!" Ned said loudly, the whole table shook violently at the force of his fist, and some of the glasses of liquid had fallen over landing on the food. All of his children stopped dead in their tracks and looked at him like deer.

“I will not stand for this sort of behavior. You are Starks of Winterfell, not wild animals!” He said forcefully eyeing each of his children individually. "You will not act like this tomorrow night. This alliance with the Tyrells is very important. I expect you all to act like the lords and ladies that you are. That means no horseplay, no arguing, and no nonsense, do I make myself clear?" Ned said firmly, as if he were issuing out orders to his men on the battlefield. He eyed his two girls especially. All of his children nodded their heads in unison at him. "Good. I will expect better behavior the next time we eat together, breakfast is over, you are dismissed.”

His children all made to get up and leave the room. “Robb, stay a moment,” Ned told him as Robb was about to leave the room. Robb stopped in his tracks at the doorway. Ned motioned his head indicating for Robb to close the door. Robb did as instructed closing the door and made his way back into the solar sitting down in his seat.

“How are you feeling?” Ned asked him.

“I feel fine, Father,” Robb answered.

“I know all of this may be overwhelming for you, and I know you must have questions, but I hope you understand how important this marriage is,” Ned told him in a low voice.

Robb nodded his head. “Aye, mother explained to me how important it is, but, father, may I ask, why the Tyrells? You’ve never spoken highly of House Tyrell in the past. They’re southerners, even more so than the Riverlanders, they don’t understand our ways. They even fought against you in the war. Why would you want to make an alliance with them?” Robb asked.

Ned sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was still wary of this alliance himself, and wasn’t entirely sure how much he wanted to divulge to his son about the situation here in King’s Landing. How would Robb react to learning of a suspected Lannister plot to kill King Robert. The last thing he wanted was for his son to get caught up in some scheme here in King’s Landing. He wanted Robb to focus on the wedding, and only the wedding.

“Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t even entertain the idea of this marriage, and I understand your concerns. Things are… complicated, here in King’s Landing. There are things moving behind me, things that I cannot keep my eyes on. Many are upset with the new tax, and their resentment will only grow once the weather turns. When that time does come, we will need House Tyrell compliant. That is why your marriage to Margaery is so important,” Ned told him. It was a half-truth, but worrying his son about a plot against the King would only make Robb worry more. His son didn’t need that kind of stress hanging over his head.

“I understand, father. You don’t need to worry; I will do what you ask of me,” Robb said, nodding his head obediently.

“Good, and I trust you will avoid any more…. Indiscretions with other young ladies during your stay here,” Ned told him with a deliberate voice.

Robb swallowed hard before he spoke. “How much did mother tell you about that?”

“She told me enough.”

“It didn’t go as far as you think…I” Robb began, but Ned cut him off.

“I don’t want to hear another word about you and Alys Hornwood. She is married, and now you are going to marry Margaery Tyrell, that is the end of it,” Eddard said with a voice that broke no argument.

Robb nodded his head submissively, “Of course, father. I’m…I’m sorry.”

Ned sighed remembering what it was like being young, and what it felt like seeing a beautiful young girl smile from across the hall. Ned remembered how his elder brother Brandon had been at seventeen all those years ago, and how all the girls would look at him. Ned wished he had had his brother’s confidence when talking with women, but could never work up the courage to do so. There was more than one reason his brother was known as “the wild wolf”. Ned had always thought Robb would display better judgement when it happened to him, but apparently not.

“Father, I know this may not be a good time to ask, but,” Robb paused looking at him for permission to finish.

Eddard nodded his head to him to continue. “Bran has been asking to go swimming in Blackwater Bay for near two months now. I was planning on taking him and Arya down to the bay this afternoon. Can we go?”

It was an innocent enough request, even if he didn’t exactly like it. Going anywhere in King’s Landing was dangerous, but he didn’t expect Robb to be content with sitting around in the Tower of the Hand all day long.

Ned nodded his head, allowing it. “Bring Jory, and a few other guards with you when you go.”

“Thank you, father,” Robb said with a big smile. Robb then made to stand up but Ned put a hand of his shoulder keeping him in his seat.

“Remember where you are, Robb. I may be Hand of the King, but I’m not all powerful here. This is King’s Landing, and I won’t lie to you; we have more enemies here then you realize. Always be careful and mindful of your surroundings, and of those you encounter while you’re in the city. Be sure to keep your brother and sister close. This isn’t Winterfell, and not everyone is on our side.”

Robb nodded his head in understanding. “I’ll be careful, father. You have my word,” Robb said before standing up and making his way out of the room, with his large direwolf companion following at his heels.

_I’m going to hold you that, my son._

* * *

 

 

 


	9. Nine

After breakfast Robb rode out of the Red-Keep with Bran, Arya, Theon, Jory, and a small group of father’s household guard. Robb was dressed lightly, wearing only a light leather tunic and leather trousers. He was used to wearing heavy furs and hard leathers to guard against the cold and harsher climate of the North. Wearing so little made it feel like he was forgetting something

So far, Robb wasn’t all that fond of King’s Landing. He couldn’t get over how bad it smelt here. There was no hiding from the foul odor of piss and shit from anywhere, it was awful. The high heat and high humidity was also something that he didn’t want to get used to. He was already starting to sweat, and his clothes starting sticking uncomfortably to his body. It felt like he was in the swamps of the neck again, but only instead of being surrounded by dangerous wildlife, he was surrounded by dangerous people.

The city itself was crowded and bustling with people. Everywhere he turned there were crowds of people littering the streets in front of them. There were all different kinds of people, from all different walks of life. Traders, craftsmen, knights, guardsmen, beggars, whores, drunks. It felt like there were more people crammed into King’s Landing, then there were people in all of the North. It had only been a day and a half, and Robb already hated it here.

“Is it always like this?” Robb asked Jory riding beside him.

Jory gave him a half smile. “It is always crowded, but even more so now, my lord. Everyone is coming in from all over the Kingdom. The tournament attracts all a manner of people, from the lowliest to the most highborn, my lord,” Jory answered him.

They continued riding through the crowded streets, and the cobblestone that was close to the Red-Keep turned to a dirt road the further they traveled in the direction Jory was leading them. Many people in the crowd looked on in fear as they rode past. One woman he saw dropped a bundle of radishes she was carrying onto the dirt ground. Robb wasn’t too surprised about the looks of fear, Summer and Grey Wind had that effect on people. _I suppose it’s not every day that one sees a direwolf roaming the streets of King’s Landing, let alone two._

“Is there a spot we can go swimming outside of the city with some privacy?” Robb asked.

“Across the Blackwater Rush there’s a nice section of beach beside the bay I see from the window of the Tower. It’s usually unoccupied, that’s where we’re headed,” Jory responded. He was thankful Jory was here with them, Robb would be totally lost trying to navigate through this cursed city.

They kept riding until they came to an open square area with many market stalls, and suddenly the smell of fish became predominate in his nose. It was possibly the worst combination of smells he’s ever been witness to. The scent of piss and shit was still prominent in his nostrils, and coupled with the putrid stench of dead fish, he nearly vomited his breakfast right there and then like Bran had the other night.

“This is Fishmonger’s Square, my lord.” Jory said with an amused look noticing his expression.

Robb turned around and eyed Theon with a grin. “Look, Greyjoy, we found your favorite spot. Go see if they sell your fish pie,” Robb jested to him as they made their way through the square.

Theon didn’t look amused by his joke. “Very funny, Stark.”

“What’s fish pie?” Bran asked from his horse beside Theon.

“Something that smells disgusting, but Theon still likes it all the same,” Robb told him with a chuckle.

“Sounds gross,” Bran answered.

Robb laughed to himself continuing to follow Jory out of the square and underneath the Mud-Gate portcullis. They then came to the harbor of King’s Landing. Directly in front flowed the mouth of Blackwater Rush. The sound of water flowing was drowned out by the many squawking seagulls and the many people working the docks. Hundreds of quays lined the docks with many trading vessels, fishing boats, and warships. This biggest among them was a giant warship with over four hundred oars, it’s large golden tailored masts displayed a huge black stag, and on the bow of the ship read, _King Robert’s Hammer_.

“Wow,” Bran said with big awestruck eyes. “I didn’t know they could build ships that big.”

“If you think that’s something, you should see what’s hidden beneath the Red-Keep,” Arya said.

“Really? What’s beneath the Red-Keep?” Bran asked.

“I’ll show you when we get back,” Arya answered him.

There was no bridge to connect the harbor to the Kingsroad on the other side of the river. They had to cross on a flatbottom ferry that was operated by oarsmen with long wooden poles to navigate across the river. Once they crossed the river, Jory picked up his pace to a medium trot and turned right, alongside the river in the direction of the bay. Most of the houses, inns, and merchants were along the Kingsroad, and not off the road that they were now traveling on. The further they traveled along this side of the river, the less populated it became.

Robb could hear the sounds of the city start to slowly fade away the further away they traveled. Robb looked out over at the horizon of the bay and saw the boats out in the far distance. He wondered what they were carrying, and wished he could book passage on the next ship headed North. When they finally did stop, they were on top of a small cliff that overlooked Blackwater Bay. This spot had a great view. On the other side of the bay slightly off to the left stood Aegon’s Hill, where the Red-Keep stood like a beacon of fire at its peak. Robb had to crane his neck upwards in order to view the entirety of the castle. To think, they had just come from all the way up there, he wondered if anyone in the castle could see them.

Directly below them, beneath the cliff was a small beach head with a light beige colored sand, and tiny waves rolling up on the shoreline.

“Here we are, my lord. See there,” Jory said, pointing his finger to a small trail off to the right of the cliff. It seemed to lead down to the beach beside the bay.

Robb looked around and didn’t see anybody else close-by, it looked private enough for them. The sounds of the city could still be heard off the in the distance, but they were of a much lower volume than before. It became easier to focus on the sounds of the bay, and the soft rolling waves against the shoreline. For once the stories were true about something, the bay did sparkle in the sunlight.

“This is a nice find, Jory,” Robb told him before dismounting from his horse. He took a breath and was relieved to not smell as foul stench as before. The scent of the city had given way to a the salt sea air.

Bran and Arya both dismounted from their horses as well, and began running down the trail towards the beach with Summer and Grey Wind scampering behind them. “Last one down has to each fish pie!” Bran yelled with excitement.

“Not too fast!” Robb called out to them as they ran down the trail.

“I want to see the look on his face when he finds out what that actually is,” Theon said with a laugh.

“C’mon, let’s go check out the beach,” Robb said, patting Theon on the chest before running after his brother and sister.

The dirt trail quickly turned into sand beneath his feet, making it harder to run in his boots. Robb jogged further up towards the beach and noticed discarded pieces of clothing thrown haphazardly in the sand. Arya and Bran were already throwing water at each other in the shallow of the bay. Bran was only in his trousers, while Arya was still in her taupe colored tunic and pants having only discarded her socks and shoes. Robb and Theon both quickly removed their boots and leathers, leaving them only in their trousers. They both then ran towards Arya and Bran in the shallow water. The sand felt incredibly comfortable on his bare feet, and the water was colder than he expected it to be, but it still was a nice contrast the hot humidity in the air.

Robb came up behind Arya and splashed her with the water. “Got you!” Robb said with a laugh.

“Hey!” Arya cried out with a smile, splashing back at him.

Robb then picked Arya up off the ground, and placed her over his shoulders. “Whew! You got heavy. What have they been feeding you down here?” Robb said up to her.

Arya started rubbing his head trying to mess up his hair, and then she lightly kicked her heel in Robb’s stomach for the jibe. “Ow!…And your legs, since when did your legs get so strong? This used to be much easier.”

“It’s from my water dancing lessons, with Syrio Forel. I’ve been learning the Braavosi style of sword fighting.”

“Really, Braavos? Father lets you train with the sword?” Bran asked.

Arya nodded her head with a toothy grin. “Yea right. Lord Stark would never let you train with the sword. You’re a girl, girls don’t play with swords,” Theon scoffed completely disregarding the idea entirely.

Arya jumped off of Robb’s shoulders, her feet making a small splash in the shallow water. “I’m not just any girl. I’m Arya Stark of Winterfell, and I have been training every day. I bet I could even beat you, Theon,” She said with anger. She then walked right up to Theon, and pushed him hard. Apparently, her push was harder than Theon expected, because he fell down in the water just as another small wave came crashing up on shore, causing water to go up his nose.

“Look, the Kraken can’t swim,” Bran joked at Theon.

There was a loud chorus of laughter coming from behind them. Robb looked up at the small cliff where Jory and the other guardsmen were standing, all of them laughing at Theon as well. Robb extended a hand for Theon to take, but he shrugged him off and stood up by himself.

“How about you prove it then?” Theon taunted to Arya.

“Sure,” Arya said puffing out her chest and putting her hands on her hips.

“Since you’re a sword master now, I’m sure defeating Bran will be a piece of cake,” Theon continued.

“Done,” Arya answered.

“What do you think, Bran, think you can take on your sister?” Theon asked.

Bran grinned and nodded his head accepting the challenge. Robb smiled to himself, it was a good thing they brought those practice swords with them. “Jory, throw down those practice swords. We’re going to have ourselves a duel down here,” Robb called up to Jory who was still watching over them from the top of the cliff.

Robb had been training in Winterfell long enough to know how Ser Rodrick conducted exercises like this. They didn’t have the padding that they normally would have, but with the wood, the worst that could happen was a bad bruise. Arya and Bran stood on the damp part of the sand where it was easier to stand, and the water didn’t rise higher than their ankles. Robb was serving as master-of-arms for the contest between his brother and sister.

“Now, this is a friendly competition. That means no going for the head or private parts, is that understood,” Robb said, eyeing his siblings carefully. They both rolled their eyes at him, but nodded nonetheless. “Alright, the first one to land three strikes on the other will win,” he continued, and again they rolled their eyes and nodded their heads. “Ok, begin,” Robb said.

Bran moved forward towards Arya with both hands on his sword taking a more traditional stance. Robb was a little taken aback by Arya’s stance. She held her sword in one hand, and stood facing sideways. It was an odd look; one he had never seen before. _She really must be taking lessons, then._ Bran moved in close to Arya and swung out with an overhand slash, but Arya quickly sidestepped out of the way swatting his sword away from her. Then in one quick motion lunged forward connecting to Bran’s chest. “That’s one,” Arya said with a cheeky smile.

Robb smiled in disbelief, the way she moved was so fluid. “Uh oh, Bran. Arya’s got some moves,” Robb called out.

The next round went much the same way. Bran attacked again with a traditional overhand power swing, but Arya sidestepped and riposted his attack almost effortlessly. “At least make it a challenge for me, Bran, that’s two,” Arya teased to him.

Bran pounded his training sword in the sand and looked to be getting upset by being defeated so quickly. “You need to pivot, Bran. Move your feet, don’t just stand there like a stump,” Theon called out.

In the next round this time it was Arya who took the initiative. She advanced toward Bran, quickly closing the distance between them. Arya then lunged out with a stab of her own, but Bran moved his feet quick enough to avoid her lunge and deflected her sword away from him. Bran then moved back in for another strike, but Arya saw it coming and brought her sword up onto his chest just as Bran was about to bring it down on her. “That’s three, I win,” Arya said, with another cheeky smile.

“No fair!” Bran cried out in protest, throwing his training sword in the sand angrily.

Robb laughed and clapped his hands at Arya’s victory. “Well done, Arya. Don’t be a sore loser, Bran. Now, shake hands, both of you.”

Bran reluctantly did as he was instructed. “Good match, you nearly had me there with the pivot, Bran. That was a good move,” Arya said.

“Your stance, I’ve never seen that before, you are so quick,” Bran replied.

“That’s the Braavosi dance, the water dance,” Arya said as she twirled around on top of the shallow water.

Theon shook his head disapprovingly. “That style is worthless. It won’t do you any good in a real fight. In a real fight, Bran would have armor on. Those simple lunges won’t be able to penetrate plate. You need to be able to generate enough force with your swings to penetrate most armors. Those tiny thrusts won’t work. You’re wasting your time with that nonsense,” Theon said with his arms folded.

“Not necessarily,” Robb said, picking up the sword that Bran had just dropped to the floor. “Not if you know where to aim. Here Arya, come at me, and this time imagine me with my armor on, and don’t hold back, I can take it, trust me,” Robb told her.

“Are you sure, I don’t want to hurt you,” Arya said.

“I’m sure, go ahead, let me have it, “Robb replied.

“I’d rather hit Theon,” Arya answered.

“Just come at me,” Robb told her growing slightly impatient. “Alright, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Arya said reluctantly.

She then nodded her head and came at him. Arya then lunged quickly at his chest, he could have easily parried it away, but he didn’t on purpose because he wanted know just how much force she was generating in those tiny thrusts. The wood hit him square in the chest, and it hurt a little and he let a cough of discomfort from getting the wind knocked out of him, but he wouldn’t feel that one tomorrow. “Theon’s right, those thrusts wont penetrate my armor. But, even plate armor has its weaknesses. Remember, part of swordplay is knowing your opponent’s strengths and vulnerabilities. Plate armor is weak under the arms, and sometimes behind the leg at the shins, and sometimes at the neck, depending on the make of it. Do you think you can be quick enough to hit that?”

“I can be quick,” Arya answered him.

“Let’s see it then,” Robb said.

Arya nodded her head at him and lunged at him. This time, Robb didn’t just take it. He moved towards her quickly and saw her lunge coming from a mile away. He parried her thrust away with a hard downward slash. The force of his swing made Arya drop her sword completely, and he brought his sword back up to connect to her mid-section, but he didn’t let the wood come into contact with her body.

“Damn, you’re strong,” Arya grumbled.

Robb bent down on one knee and put his hand on Arya’s shoulder. “It’s from practicing every day, and I’ve had a little bit of a head start on you. If you keep at it you’ll be able to hold your own against me one day, I am sure of it, just always remember where to aim,” Robb told her with a smile before standing back to full height.

“This stuff feels weird,” Bran said. He was sitting down in the dry sand letting the tiny grains fall through his fingertips watching Grey Wind and Summer swim together in the deeper part of the bay.

“I like it. It feels good on my feet,” Arya said.

“How about we play a game,” Bran said standing back up to his feet.

“That’s a good idea. We can play catch the arrow,” Robb suggested.

Theon grinned. “That sounds good. I’ll go up on the cliff and shoot arrows up into the air, and you all can try to catch them. I’ll break the tips off of course, so no one gets hurt.”

“Sounds like fun,” Arya said.

Theon then walked back up the trail to the top of the cliff. Robb, Arya, and Bran settled themselves in the dry sand beneath the cliff preparing to catch the arrow. Arya and Bran started pushing each other slightly to try to gain a better position over the other one. Robb was taller than both of them and knew he had the advantage. Robb looked back up at the cliff and could see Theon grinning down at them with his bow in hand.

“Ready?” Theon called down to them.

“Fire the arrow already,” Arya yelled up to him.

Theon nocked his arrow and fired it straight up into the air. Robb, Arya, and Bran all fought for position between themselves in the sand to be in the best place to catch it. Robb nestled himself right underneath it and just as the tipless arrow was within his grasp he was suddenly pushed out of the way, and Bran caught it instead.

“I got it!” Bran exclaimed with joy.

“You two are teaming up against me, aren’t you?” Robb said noticing Arya’s smug face after Bran had caught the arrow.

“What? You have the height advantage, it’s only fair, dear brother,” Arya said with an innocent smile.

“Alright, fine,” Robb grinned, before turning back up towards the cliff waiting for Theon to fire the next arrow.

“Nice catch, Bran. Ok, get ready,” Theon said before nocking another arrow and firing it into the air.

Robb fought for position again with his siblings being more mindful of where they were and their two on one attack. The arrow shot high in the air, and it started to make its decent back towards the ground. Robb reached his hand up in the air to try to catch the arrow, while keeping his other arm to block out Arya, but just he was about to grab it, a four legged large direwolf jumped in his way and caught it in his mouth.

“Oh! look at that! Grey Wind for the win! That pup can jump!” Theon called out from the top of the cliff.

Robb laughed looking at Grey Wind. He was soaking wet from head to toe from swimming in the bay, and he wagged his tail while holding the arrow in his mouth. “Nice catch, boy,” Robb said rubbing Grey Wind behind his ears.

“Looks like Summer and Grey Wind want in on the action too,” Arya said.

“The more the merrier,” Bran said happily. Summer was coming in from the bay as well and was standing next to Bran.

“Alright, Theon, we’re ready, shoot another one,” Robb called up to him, but he didn’t get a response. He turned back up at the cliff, and noticed Theon wasn’t there anymore. “Theon?” Robb called out again.

“Theon, we’re waiting,” Arya called up to him, but, still no response. Robb looked back down at Bran and Arya noticing Grey Wind wasn’t there anymore as well.

“Theon! Hurry up!” Bran yelled up to him.

“You better not be playing around up there!” Arya continued.

Robb turned his attention away from the cliff looking back down at Bran and Arya but noticed Grey Wind wasn’t there anymore either. “Where did Grey Wind go?” Robb asked.

“He went up the trail,” Arya told him.

“What’s taking him so long?” Bran asked.

“I don’t know,” Robb answered. He then looked back up towards the cliff trying to figure out where Theon went. It was weird, Jory and the other guardsmen weren’t there either. They had all been up there a moment ago, it’s was if they just… disappeared. _Strange._ Then there was a loud scream that came up from that direction. Only it didn’t sound like any of their men, it sounded like... it sounded familiar.

Arya rolled her eyes. “Don’t fall for it. I bet its Theon trying to play a trick on us,”

Robb wasn’t so sure, his father had warned him of the dangers of King’s Landing, but would someone really attack them out here in the open like this? “I’m going to check it out. You two stay here, and stay close to Summer. I’ll be right back,” Robb said.

If it was a threat, he didn’t want his siblings to be anywhere near it. He silently cursed at himself, he left his real sword attached to his horse’s saddle. He started into a light jog running back up the trail. The sand turned into a grass covered dirt beneath his feet the further he traveled up the trail . He was about to come to the end of the trail that led to the top of the cliff when he called out to Theon again. “Is that you screaming like a girl up here, Theon?” Robb called out with some humor in his voice, still hoping it was all a joke that Jory and the others were trying to play on them. He then reached the top of the trail, and realized what had distracted Theon and the men.

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sansa couldn’t be happier about the marriage between Robb and Margaery. She had always wanted a sister like Margaery. Someone beautiful and gentle with all the world's graces at her command. Margaery’s ladies in waiting were just as nice as she was. It was nice making more friends here in the capital. Ser Garlan Tyrell’s wife, Lady Leonette gave her lessons on the high harp, and Lady Janna, Lord Mace Tyrell’s own sister shared courtly gossip with her and Jeyne Poole.

The wedding itself was shaping up to be a grand event. Lords from all over the Kingdom were coming for the wedding and the tournament. She hoped that when she finally wed prince Joffrey, it would be similar, and all the lords and ladies would come see her wed, her prince.

The ladies in Margaery’s retinue that were closest to her age were her cousins Elinor, Alla, and Megga. Tyrells from the junior branches of her house. “Roses from lower on the bush” quipped Elinor who was witty and willowy. Megga was round and loud, while Alla was shy and pretty. There was also a northern girl in lady Margaery’s service. Mira Forrester was serving as one of Margaery’s handmaidens. Sansa remembered Lord Forrester had visited Winterfell once when she was a young girl. He had been delivering a shipment of ironwood to the castle, and had brought members of his household along with him. Sansa had spent a few afternoons with all of them when she wasn’t with her father or her prince Joffrey or Queen Cersei.

Some nights Sansa invited all of them up to the Tower of the Hand where they stayed up all night talking and gossiping about the tournament, and of course Margaery’s wedding to Robb. They would talk about knights and how handsome they were in their armor and who they liked and what they would do once they were all married, all over lemon cakes and honeyed wine.

Elinor would ask what it was like kissing prince Joffrey, and if the prince shared any secrets with her. Sansa had gushed over the time Joffrey kissed her on the lips when she returned to King’s Landing, and of how he had professed his love for her, and then promised they would always be together. She was so happy to have new friends who were interested in the same things as her. Arya was entirely unsatisfactory as far as sisters went. She only ever cared about her stupid dancing lessons. Every night at dinner, she would boast about how she got a new bruise or scar. _What an idiot._ It was like the gods had finally listened to her prayers in giving her an actual sister to be proud of.

Sansa was angry that she had to wait a whole year in order to wed prince Joffrey. She didn’t understand why her father was putting it off. She would be the next Queen in waiting, _why didn’t he understand that?_

Today she was out hawking with lady Margaery. It was the first time she had ever done it in her life. They had left the Red-Keep with a small escort of Tyrell guards in silver plated armor and surcoats with the golden rose sigil. They left the city via the Mud-Gate, taking the flatbottom ferry across the river. Sansa had taken Jeyne Poole along with Margaery, her cousins, and handmaidens. But the best part was that Margaery’s brother, Ser Loras Tyrell, had joined them on their day trip outside of the city. Sansa couldn’t get over just how handsome Ser Loras was. He looked just like Margaery, with adorable dimples on his cheeks and long curling brown hair and eyes of molten gold. If she couldn’t have Joffrey, then Sansa would want to marry Ser Loras.

Currently they were travelling in the Kingswood amongst a smattering of ash and maple trees. There was a small pond in front of them that had a few ducks swimming that they were training their birds on.

“That dress looks beautiful on you Sansa. Doesn’t it Loras?” Margaery said with a smile.

Loras nodded his head with a graceful smile, “beautiful as a queen,” He told her which caused Sansa to blush slightly. When Sansa cleaned herself off after breakfast, she dressed in another gown in the style of the Reach. She wanted to match lady Margaery on their afternoon excursion. Sansa’s dress was a sleeveless gown made of grey colored silk and Myrish lace with satin lining. The dress was cut low in the front, much lower than she was used to. Sometimes she caught men much older than her openly gaping at her chest, which made her uncomfortable. “Thank you,” was all Sansa could muster out of her lips. She hoped she didn’t sound too foolish, but somehow, she knew she did.

“Thank you, it was a kind gesture, lady Margaery, too kind,” Sansa told her.

“Nonsense, you are to be my sister Sansa,” Margaery said, taking Sansa by the hand and giving her a gentle squeeze. “and sisters take care of each other,” Margaery finished. Sansa was trying to contain her joy, but she couldn’t stop smiling. _She called me sister._

“I’m looking forward to meeting your brother tomorrow evening; do you think he will like me?” Margaery asked.

Sansa nodded her head reassuringly to her. “I am sure of it. He told me he was looking forward to meeting you this morning at breakfast.”

But even Sansa noticed how dejected Robb had seemed when father had brought up dinner with the Tyrells this morning. She assumed he was just nervous about meeting her. She was sure once Robb met Margaery, he would instantly fall in love with her.

“That is wonderful news,” Margaery said.

“Will the boys direwolves join us for dinner as well?” Loras asked with some caution. Loras was with King Robert’s welcoming party for Robb and Bran’s arrival into King’s Landing. It would be a little intimidating seeing Grey Wind and Summer for the first time, even for someone as skilled with a blade as Ser Loras. She herself couldn’t get over how big the direwolves had gotten in only a year.

“Probably not, father will most likely make Robb and Bran keep them away during dinner. But, you don’t need to fear them. Robb would never let Grey Wind harm lady Margaery,” Sansa told them.

“Let us hope so,” Loras answered with some skepticism. Sansa smiled somewhat to herself. Sansa knew Loras was only being protective of his sister. It reminded her of how Robb was with her, he had always been very protective of her growing up in Winterfell.

“Look Sansa! In the sky, a heron, watch this,” Margaery said with a gleam in her eye. She then released her peregrine falcon into the air. Sansa watched in wonder as the small bird flew towards the larger heron at lightning speed. The smaller falcon flew right in front of the heron forcing the larger bird to change direction in mid-flight. The falcon then flew high above the heron and then dove directly down changing direction in midair with absolute mastery, and attacked the larger bird with its sharp talons. The next thing she saw was the heron somersaulting to the ground landing in the grass, lifeless.

“Wow, you’ve trained that bird well,” Sansa told her.

Margaery smiled proudly watching her bird fly down to assess its kill. “I’m afraid I can’t take the credit. My eldest brother, Wilas, is the one who breeds and trains them. He hunts with eagles that are bigger than my entire arm. You should see some of the game he gets with his eagles. Sometimes he comes even comes home with deer. You should visit Highgarden sometime with prince Joffrey, Lady Sansa. I’m sure you will both enjoy it there.”

“That is a splendid idea lady Margaery,” Sansa replied. Loras then rode off with some of their guardsmen to the site of the kill to admire it at a closer angle.

“My father told me that over by the bay there are waterfowl and even more herons. Come, sweet sister, let us race there, it will drive Loras and our guards mad,” Margaery told her with a giggle. She then dug her heels into her horse without even waiting for a response, and flew away as fast as her falcon. _She rides as fast as Arya does. Is there anything she can’t do?_ Sansa thought before galloping after her.

They rode as quickly as they could towards the bay. Sansa could hear Loras and the rest of their group call after them following behind a few lengths back. Margaery rode quickly through to the grassy fields and out of the Kingswood. Sansa wasn’t used to riding this fast, but Margaery seemed to be an expert on the horse. The way she maneuvered around the trees and galloped without fear made Sansa want to do the same.

Before long, they were coming up to the edge of the bay beyond the mouth of the river. The bay always looked spectacular at this time of the day. The way the sun caught the surface of the water was almost magical. Sansa was so caught up looking out over the horizon she barely noticed Margaery suddenly stop in front of her on her horse.

“Who’s that?” Margaery said motioning her head toward something in the distance.

Sansa stopped her horse beside her, and looked in the same direction Margaery was. She noticed over by the edge of a Cliffside there was a small group of men in mail armor, and one was holding up the direwolf banner of House Stark.

“I think that’s my brother,” Sansa began. “He said he was taking Bran and Arya swimming this afternoon.” Sansa told her, trying hard to believe what she was seeing.

“Really? How fortuitous, it looks like I won’t have to wait until tomorrow to meet your brother after all,” Margaery said with a smile. She then kicked her horse forward again, and started to make her way towards the group of men holding the Stark banner.

The closer they got, the more details Sansa could make out. There were six men on the edge of the cliff looking out below, but Sansa couldn’t see what they were looking at from her vantage point. One of the men had no tunic or any clothes on his torso, and looked to be holding a longbow. When they got close enough, the men all turned to them finally taking notice of their presence. Sansa immediately recognized each one of them. Jory, father’s guard captain was here with a few of his men. They all bowed their heads to her as she made her approach. The shirtless man however, was none other than Theon Greyjoy.

Theon turned around and looked between herself and Margaery with a grin that made her a little uneasy. She then took a second to examine him. Theon was leaner than she remembered. His lanky body had turned harder with a lean, trim, and lightly muscled chest and abdomen. Combining that with his dark head of hair and handsome face, and Sansa suddenly found herself trying to hide a blush.

“Well, look who we have here,” Theon said with a cocky grin.

“Theon,” Sansa answered with grace. She and Margaery then both dismounted from their horses to greet them. Margaery gave Jory and the other men a polite smile before Theon walked up to them.

“Lady Margaery, this is my father’s ward, Theon Greyjoy, heir to Pike and the Iron Islands. Theon, this is lady Margaery of House Tyrell,” Sansa said giving proper introductions

Margaery extended her hand for Theon to take in customary courtesy. “It is a pleasure to meet you, lord Greyjoy,” Margaery said with a graceful smile. Theon took her hand and gave it a kiss, but it seemed like Theon made the kiss last longer than necessary.

“So, you’re Robb’s betrothed, not bad,” Theon said with another uneasy grin. Sansa didn’t like the way Theon was looking at Margaery. He was eyeing her up and down like she was a piece of meat, staring openly at her chest on the low cut part of her dress. Though it didn’t seem to bother Margaery in the slightest, she was ignoring his rudeness with grace.

“I can’t say I’ve ever met an Iron Islander before,” Margaery said, her voice gentle and kind.

“No? Well then, you should know we Greyjoy’s are famous for our skill in archery, navigation, and lovemaking…” Theon said with a seductive smile, still openly ogling Margaery. Then, just like that, Sansa found herself completely turned off by him. The more Theon talked, the more she wanted to hurl.

Ser Loras then came riding in behind them, with the rest of their group in tow. The Tyrell soldiers remained on horseback while Ser Loras dismounted quickly, and was instantly beside his sister. Theon eyed Loras with a cocky grin, noticing his protectiveness. “Ser Loras, good to see you again,” Theon said, but didn’t stop ogling.

“Greyjoy,” was Loras’s only response while giving Theon a hard gaze.

Sansa paused hearing Margaery suck in her breath quickly. She was looking on in fear at something off to the right. Sansa followed Margaery’s gaze and noticed a soaking wet Grey Wind coming straight towards them. He was holding what looked to be an arrow in his mouth. Everyone in the Tyrell group looked on nervously at the giant direwolf walking straight towards them. Margaery’s cousins looked on in fear, and hid behind the guards who didn’t look any braver. It was the first time Sansa had ever seen Margaery show any genuine fear. “Don’t worry, sister,” Sansa began. “He won’t hurt us,” Sansa finished.

Grey Wind continued walking towards them and stopped right in front of Theon, dropping the arrow at his feet. Grey Wind then eyed Margaery with his golden eyes as if he were trying to look through her. Loras had moved himself slightly in front of Margaery as Grey Wind stared at her. The direwolf then turned his gaze onto Sansa and began licking her face. “Stop it, Grey Wind, that tickles,” Sansa said with a giggle, trying to push the direwolf off of her.

Seeing the direwolves again reminded her of Lady. She remembered feeding Lady bacon and honeycombs under the table, and how she would lick her fingers clean trying to taste more. Remembering made tears form in the corner of her eyes. She was perfect, delicate as a queen, why did the world have to be so cruel sometimes?

Grey Wind then leaned back on his hind legs stretching out his body, and in one motion, began shaking himself free of all the excess water on him. Sansa let out a loud scream as Grey Wind was doing his best to get everyone wet. Loras had moved his armored person completely in front of Margaery, so she wouldn’t get wet, but Sansa wasn’t as lucky. Theon started laughing obnoxiously at her. Sansa almost felt like crying, her brand new dress was sprayed with direwolf smelling water in front of everyone!

“Grey Wind!” Sansa screeched out loud.

“Relax, it’s only water Sansa, and you didn’t even get that wet,” Theon told her. _Easy for you to say, you’re not wearing any clothes!_

“Is that you screaming like a girl up here, Theon?” Sansa turned her head recognizing Robb’s voice. He was walking up the trail off to the right, and seemed to just realize that they were here. His eyes widened for a second taking them all in, noticing the Tyrell banner flying behind her. He looked down at his exposed torso with a look of half disbelief and half amusement before picking his head back up and continuing to walk towards them.

Robb whistled sharply, and Grey Wind’s ears immediately picked up and he bounded over to him. “Sit,” Robb commanded to Grey Wind with an authoritative tone, and the direwolf did as instructed.

Sansa tried to regain her composure after Grey Wind’s unwanted bath. She was a lady of House Stark, and would be Queen one day. She had to hold her grace under all pressures. Sansa took a second to examine Robb, for some reason he seemed different to her. He seemed older and more mature than what her memory served her. Where Theon’s body was lean, Robb’s was more muscular and cut, and he walked with a sense of confidence that seemed to command respect. Sansa noticed how Jory and his guardsmen looked at her brother with pride, and how even Theon stopped laughing and backed off giving Robb a direct path to them. Robb closed the distance and shook his head letting out another small laugh of disbelief.

“Lady Margaery, allow me to introduce to you my brother, Robb Stark, heir to Winterfell. Robb, this is lady Margaery of House Tyrell,” Sansa said. She was trying to contain her glee of the two finally meeting, no matter of strange the circumstance, she still was jumping for joy inside that they were finally meeting.

Margaery curtseyed before Robb, and was taking extra-long look at his exposed chest. “Lord Stark, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. Sansa has been telling me all about you, although, she never mentioned how handsome you are,” Margaery said with a grace, extending her hand in the customary greeting.

Robb took her offered hand, and gave it a quick and gentle kiss. “My lady, it is an honor finally to meet you as well. You look undeniably lovely this afternoon. Although, I must admit, this isn’t exactly how I envisioned we’d meet,” Robb said with a smile.

“Oh? How did you envision it?” Margaery asked.

Robb looked down at his exposed slightly damp chest and abdomen again. “For starters, I had more clothes on,” He said looking back up into Margaery’s eyes with a playful smile which showed off his high cheekbones and perfect white teeth.

Margaery let out a small giggle at Robb’s joke, and his attempt to lighten the mood. Sansa heard Elinor and the other girls behind them giggle amongst themselves as well.

“You won’t hear me complaining about it, lord Stark,” Margaery said.

Robb chuckled softly to himself. “You are too kind, my lady. I apologize for my state of undress. I wasn’t expecting to see you until tomorrow evening.”

Margaery’s eyes roamed up and down Robb’s torso before finally resting on his eyes. “I believe I will find it within my power to forgive you, lord Stark,” Margaery said, smiling playfully back at Robb.

Loras then abruptly cleared his throat, trying to break up the eye staring contest going on between Robb and Margaery. “Oh, excuse me, where are my manners. Lord Stark, allow me to introduce my brother, Ser Loras Tyrell, the newest member of King Robert’s Kingsguard,” Margaery said with a sense of pride for her brother.

“Stark,” Loras said, extending his gauntleted hand for Robb to shake. Robb took it and shook his hand firmly, giving him a lordly nod of acknowledgement. “Ser Loras, good to see you again. I believe we met the other day on the Kingsroad,” Robb replied with a degree of respect.

“That we did, and I see you still keep your direwolf on the loose,” Loras said warily, eyeing Grey Wind who was still sitting in the same spot as he had been instructed to.

Robb gave him a look of understanding before turning back to Margaery. “I apologize if Grey Wind frightened you, my lady. I can assure you, you have nothing to fear from him,” Robb told her with surety. “I’ll prove it to you,” Robb said before calling Grey Wind over.

“Grey Wind, here,” Robb called out. Grey Wind came over at being called and stood obediently beside Robb, and Robb then put a gentle hand on the direwolf’s back.

“You certainly appeared to have trained him well,” Margaery said.

Robb then lightly pushed Grey Wind forward, and the direwolf moved in close to Margaery, putting his nose up against her face and began smelling her. Loras kept a hand on the pommel of his sword, preparing to strike if the direwolf attacked, but instead, Grey Wind began licking Margaery’s face as it had just done to Sansa. Margaery let out a fit of giggles at the fierce looking direwolf’s display of affection.

“You see, my lady, even Grey Wind understands that you are too lovely to harm,” Robb said. He then called Grey Wind off of her, and instructed him to go over by Jory.

“You flatter me, lord Stark,” Margaery said with a bashful smile.

“No, I merely speak my mind,” Robb said unflinchingly, giving her another handsome smile. Sansa caught that Margaery was slightly blushing. _She likes him! Oh, this day couldn’t get any better!_

“I’m told you are going to be participating in the joust,” Ser Loras said, eyeing Robb from head to toe. “You seem to keep yourself in good shape. It will be interesting to see how you handle a lance,” Loras finished with a small grin eyeing Robb’s muscled abs in the process. Sansa saw Margaery roll her eyes slightly at her brother.

“I am looking forward to the challenge. I hear you are quite the competitor, Ser Loras.” Robb said.

“He is indeed. Loras has won many tournaments’ in the Reach, and even defeated Ser Jaime Lannister at Prince Joffrey’s fourteenth name day tournament,” Margaery said with pride.

“Impressive,” Robb answered. He then rested his fists on his sides, which made his chest and shoulders look even more pronounced without him really trying to. “If we do wind up being matched against each other, I hope you won’t take it easy on me because I’m a rookie, Ser Loras. I want to see what you Highgarden boys are made of,” Robb said, while slightly flexing his muscles with a poised smirk.

“I can assure you, I play to win,” Loras answered.

Robb nodded his head. “good to know,” Robb said, before turning his attention onto Sansa. “Will prince Joffrey be entering into the tournament, Sansa?” Robb asked with curiosity. Margaery and Loras both turned to her intrigued by the question as well.

Sansa wasn’t quite sure if her prince was going to enter the tournament. He’s expressed interest in it in the past, but Sansa remembered Queen Cersei telling her that the prince wouldn’t be taking part in the tournament. “I don’t believe so, I don’t think Queen Cersei wants him too,” Sansa said.

“That’s too bad,” Robb said with disappointment, but he had a hint of a smile on his face, and softly chortled to himself. Loras caught Robb’s smirk, and laughed softly with him. Sansa didn’t understand what they we laughing at. _Why is that funny?_ Robb paused for a moment looking past Margaery, eyeing the girls behind her. His gaze resting on one girl in particular. “Mira Forrester? Is that really you?” Robb asked, looking at Margaery’s northern handmaiden with slight surprise.

Mira stepped forward and curtseyed before Robb, “Hello again, lord Stark. I’m surprised you remember me,” Mira said trying to avoid his eyes, she was blushing brighter than Sansa’s hair.

“It has been a long time now hasn’t it? What has it been, seven years? But I never forget a face. I believe you had pigtails the last time we met,” Robb said giving her an amused but still kindhearted smile.

Gods help her, Mira Forrester looked like she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole right then and there. Robb let out a soft laugh at the girls’ reaction. “I apologize, lady Forester, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I thought you looked adorable, and now I’ve seen you’ve grown into a beautiful woman,” Robb told her reassuringly, trying to help give the girl her confidence back.

Mira regained her composure and was finally able to meet Robb’s gaze. “Thank you, my lord,” she croaked out.

“I had the chance to speak with your lord father, Gregor Forrester, and your brother, Rodrick, on the journey south. They did tell me you were in lady Margaery’s service, and I believe Gregor said he will be taking part in the melee. They are both fine men, your father and brother. I am honored that they could accompany us on such a long journey to the capital,” Robb told her.

Margaery turned and looped her arm through her handmaiden’s arm warmly. “Mira has been educating me on many of your northern customs. I look forward to finding out more, and seeing the North for myself,” Margaery said.

Robb gave her a look of amusement, or was it skepticism. _No it couldn’t be skepticism._

“How long have you been in lady Margaery’s service?” Robb asked.

“A little over seven months, my lord,”

Robb gave a chaste smile looking between Margaery and Mira. “Seven months, huh? That’s long enough to learn a secret or two. I trust you won’t mind telling me a few things about lady Margaery. Perhaps a bad habit she doesn’t want anyone else to know about? House Forrester still swears its fealty to House Stark, does it not?”

Mira looked between Robb and Margaery like she was caught between a bear and a trap. “I suppose I could tell you something, my lord,” Mira said nervously.

“Mira!?” Margaery said looking at her with wide eyes and her mouth agape.

Robb let out a loud friendly laugh, and turned back to Theon and the other Stark men that had joined in with his laughter. Robb held up his hands in acquiescence. “I apologize, that was a poor jest on my part,” Robb said regaining control of his laughter. “I would never ask you to do that, lady Forrester.”

“And what makes you so certain I have secrets, lord Stark?” Margaery asked.

“Don’t we all, my lady? But I’m looking forward to finding out what those are all on my own,” Robb said winking at her.

“It is true of what they say, you Northmen are bold indeed,” Margaery told him.

“You have no idea,” Robb answered with a grin.

“What is taking so long up here?” a new voice called out. Sansa rolled her eyes and had to suppress a groan at hearing Arya’s voice. _Of course **she** had to show up right now and ruin everything_. Sansa turned seeing Arya, Bran, and Summer coming up the trail. Arya was beside Summer, and Bran was riding on the back of his direwolf. Margaery sucked in her breath again, only this time it was more in amazement rather than fear.

Robb waved his hand motioning for Bran and Arya to come over to them. Arya came up beside Robb on his left, while Summer stopped with a mounted Bran on his right.

“Greetings, Arya, it’s nice to see you again,” Margaery kindly said. Arya rolled her eyes and scoffed at her. Robb turned to his youngest sister with a hard gaze, the same one that father would give when he was angry. Arya noted his stare and let out a small huff before giving Margaery the fakest of smiles and saying “it’s nice to see you too, lady Margaery.”

Robb then lifted Bran up off of Summer and placed him down in front of him, resting his hands on his shoulders. “Bran, you remember Ser Loras from the other day, this is his sister, lady Margaery of House Tyrell. Lady Margaery, this is my brother, Brandon Stark, but we call him Bran for short, because he’s so short,” Robb said lightheartedly ruffling Bran’s hair.

Margaery knelt down so she was eye level with Bran. “Hello, Bran, it is wonderful to finally meet you. I must say, you are just as handsome as your older brother,” Bran looked at Margaery with wide eyes and a red face. He turned his head around looking back up at Robb. Bran studied how his brother was standing and tried to imitate his stance. He puffed out his chest trying make it big like Robb’s, and rested his hands on his sides in the same fashion, and that seemed to find his confidence. “It’s nice to meet you too, lady Margaery,” Bran said.

“I hear you aspire to become a knight in the Kingsguard like my brother,” Margaery said.

Bran puffed out his chest even more and smiled brightly at her. “I’m to squire for King Robert after the Tournament, and Ser Barristan the Bold will begin my sword training!”

“How wonderful!” Margaery said kindly to him.

“You’re going to need it after your display earlier,” Arya said.

“Shut up,” Bran replied back quickly.

“Don’t get mad at Arya, Bran. She beat you fair and square,” Robb told him.

“Whatever,” Bran said begrudgingly, while folding his arms in front of his chest.

Margaery smiled to herself watching the exchange between them before standing back to full height. “Perhaps one day you will be sworn brothers with Loras, as well as goodbrothers. That may be a first in the history of the Kingsguard, although, I’m not quite sure of that.”

Bran looked at Margaery and then Loras with big eyes. “Really? That would be brilliant! I’ll ask Ser Barristan if that would be true,”

“That would be pretty interesting,” Loras said smiling down at Bran.

Margaery smiled looking back and forth between Robb and Bran. “You Starks have certainly earned that direwolf sigil. I didn’t know direwolves even existed south of the Wall. How did you come by them?”

Robb paused for a moment eyeing Sansa with remorse before he spoke. “We were coming home one day from a…duty, that my father had to carry out. On the banks of a river we found the body of a dead female direwolf, with six pups. The pups were no more than a week old. It was either leave them to die in cold, or take them in, so we took them in and raised them as our own.”

“You have six of them?” Loras asked his eyes growing huge.

“No, Lady was killed by Prince Joffrey!” Arya spat with venom directed towards Sansa. “And if **you** had told the truth then she would still be alive!” Arya continued with anger.

Sansa eyes grew sharp at her younger sister. _How dare she blame her._ “That’s not true! If you weren’t playing with that stupid butcher’s boy, then none of it would have happened in the first place!” Sansa yelled back at her.

“Keep telling yourself that! Your stupid prince is the one who tried to kill Micah for playing with a stick! If you had just left us alone, Nymeria wouldn’t have had to bite anyone! And no one would’ve gotten hurt!” Arya yelled back at her.

“How dare you insult prince Joffrey! You should have trained Nymeria better! It was your fault it happened!” Sansa shrieked back.

 **“Enough!”** Robb commanded loudly and firmly. Sansa nearly jumped out of her shoes at Robb’s voice. _He sounded so much like father just then._ “What did father say to you two this morning?” Robb said eyeing Sansa and Arya with a gaze that would make even the hardest of men piss themselves.

“Now, make peace, and apologize to our friends for your behavior,” Robb commanded them.

Sansa was embarrassed by her own behavior. That wasn’t how a lady was supposed to act. Margaery must think she is the stupidest girl in the world now for acting like that in front of her. Lady was still a soft spot for her, it was hard controlling her emotions when it came to her memories about that day. “I’m sorry, Arya, lady Margaery, Ser Loras. That was unbecoming of me,” Sansa said.

Arya rolled her eyes and folded her arms in front of her chest, refusing to apologize. She then looked up at Robb again his gaze bearing into her before finally relenting. “Fine, I’m sorry too,” Arya said.

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to bring up such a sensitive subject,” Margaery said looking on between Arya and Sansa. She then looked back at Robb with an unreadable expression. She looked almost…fascinated.

“You have nothing to apologize for, my lady. You had no way of knowing. I apologize for my sisters’ behavior. I wish I could say it won’t happen again, but… I suppose all of us Starks take a bit after our sigil,” Robb said to her.

Margaery smiled and turned around and eyed her horse. “Perhaps you would care to join us hawking, lord Stark? I was just showing Sansa how to train. You and I can share my peregrine falcon if you like?”

Robb smiled at her and eyed the guards that were holding their birds. He was about to open his mouth to answer when Bran turned around and looked up at Robb.

“But Robb, you said we would go swimming. We barely got to go in the water!” Bran pleaded up at him.

“Yea we wanted to go in the water more,” Arya continued.

Robb knelt down so he was eye level with Arya and Bran. “You’re right, I did say we would go swimming.” Robb said before standing back up to regard Margaery again. “I apologize that I must refuse your offer to join you, my lady, but I promised my brother we would go swimming. Perhaps some time after the Tournament we can go together?” Robb said politely to her.

“I’ll hold you that, lord Stark.” Margaery said.

Robb nodded to her then turned back towards Bran and Arya. “Go ahead you two, I’ll be right behind you. But don’t go in the water until I get there, understand?”

They both looked up at him and nodded their heads up and down quickly. Arya looked eager to get away from Sansa and Margaery. Robb then lifted Bran back onto Summer, and called Grey Wind over putting Arya on top of him.

“Race you back down to the beach,” Arya said, gripping the fur on Grey Wind’s back.

“You’re on. It was nice to meet you, lady Margaery. You too Ser Loras, I hope we can…. Hey! No fair!” Bran yelled out to Arya who had raced ahead of him on Grey Wind. Bran kicked Summer forward without another word, and they raced off back down the dirt trail they had just come from.

Sansa watched them go, and for a moment, was tempted to run after them and forget about everything else. Then she remembered she was a lady, and ladies don’t act that way.

Robb chuckled softly to himself watching Bran and Arya race towards the trail. He turned back around and regarded all of them respectfully. “Lady Margaery, it was a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better in the coming weeks. And I promise, the next time we meet, I’ll wear something more appropriate,” Robb said, flashing another handsome smile at her.

Margaery let out a soft laugh, and curtseyed before him. “I’ll be looking forward to that, lord Stark.”

He then turned his gaze onto Sansa, and close distance between them. He wrapped his arms around her embracing her in a brotherly hug, and then gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you back at the Tower, little sister. Be safe, and don’t go anywhere by yourself, understand?”

Sansa nodded her head and smiled at him. She had forgotten how much she missed him, just for the small things he did to make her feel safe and loved. Robb then turned back towards Ser Loras giving him a lordly nod of acknowledgement and shook his hand. “Be careful with my sister, Ser Loras. Or I’ll come looking for you…” Robb told him with a serious resolute demeanor.

“Likewise, Stark,” Loras replied back. Robb eyed Margaery for a moment before turning back and nodding his head to Loras. The two looked like they were coming to a quiet understanding with the other.

Robb bowed before Margaery one last time before turning around and jogged back down the dirt trail after Bran and Arya.

“So, those were my brothers,” Sansa said proudly watching Robb’s retreating form.

“I like him,” Loras said.

Sansa beamed and turned back to Margaery who was still watching Robb. She didn’t turn her gaze until he was fully out of sight. “He seems very…capable,” Margaery said, a wicked smile forming on her lips as she said it.

“I told you that you would like him,” Sansa said happily.

Margaery glanced back at her, her smile only growing even wider. “You are certainly right about that.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading
> 
> And thank you to Aiur, your reviews are great!
> 
> Cheers


	10. Ten

“I think that’s tight enough, Sansa” Robb said giving her an agitated look. He hated having to wear these fancy doublets. It was tight in the arms and shoulders, and it always made his armpits chafe by the end of the night.

“You look great, Robb. You should wear these more often,” Sansa said approvingly at him. Robb turned around and looked at himself in the mirror. The dark grey doublet was very luxurious looking, and was much lighter than the sort of clothing he was used to. It was made of fine velvet on the outside, and dove skin on the inside. He wore a silver chain around his neck, and a silver direwolf pendant with sapphire eyes which was used to clasp a long flowing dark grey cape to his back. It was comfortable he had to admit, but he still hated breaking in new clothes. He would have preferred his plain dark leather doublet; these outfits were just a bit over the top for his taste.

“It’s only dinner, Sansa. No one is getting married today,” Robb told her trying to get her to stop being so nervous. She had been a little hyper all day long, even more so than her usual self.

“No, it’s not, Robb. This is the first official meeting between you and lady Margaery. That business yesterday aside, I want you looking your best. Don’t do or say anything embarrassing in front of her father, or her grandmother for that matter,” Sansa said. She was now pacing back and forth inside his chambers in the Tower of the Hand. “Everything has to be perfect,” She continued.

Robb rolled his eyes for what felt like the four hundredth time since Sansa had come in to “help” put on his outfit. _She’s worse than mother._ Robb turned around and put his hands on Sansa’s shoulders to try and settle her down. “Sansa, relax, everything will be fine,” Robb said with poise.

Sansa calmed at his touched, and took a deep breath before slowly exhaling again. “Yes, you’re right. It will be a fabulous night, and everyone will get along famously,” She said.

“That’s more like it. Come, let’s go play host,” Robb said flashing her a smile. They walked with their arms linked down towards the Small Hall. He wasn’t at all nervous about tonight, not in the way Sansa seemed to be. He was more curious than anything else. He wanted to know what kind of man Lord Mace Tyrell was. The King had made it clear he wasn’t very fond of him on the Kingsroad, which then made Robb start to wonder even more. If the King didn’t like him, and father didn’t like him, why forge an alliance with him? There must be something else, something more pressing than taxes to want this, and whatever that something was, his father wasn’t telling him. He knew better than to question his father’s judgement on such things, he just hoped it wasn’t something too sinister.

Robb was also a little curious about Margaery’s grandmother. The women’s reputation as the Queen of Thorns was a unique moniker, and he wondered what she did to earn it.

The King was right about Margaery however. She was indeed very beautiful. The way her curling locks matched her large brown eyes was almost hypnotizing. He still couldn’t believe how they had met yesterday out by the bay like that. _What are the chances of that happening?_ Luckily she seemed to take his lack of attire in stride, and he had caught the way she looked at him. There was definitely some mutual attraction going on there. Now, he had grown familiar to the smiles the fairer sex shot at him over the years. Growing up as heir to Winterfell he had grown accustomed to ladies vying for his attention. For most part he had gotten away with just flirting and chaste kisses in the past, _except for that one night with Alys.._. Although yesterday, with Margaery, there was a moment when he could have lost himself in those eyes of hers for hours. He didn’t know why, maybe it was simply because she’s incredibly attractive, or, it was just knowing the fact that she was to be his wife. Whatever it was, it was a little exciting, and a bit unnerving all at the same time.

He still wasn’t going to make any snap judgments about her. Margaery could still prove to be that stuck up bitch that Dacey Mormont expected her to be. She could be hiding behind those soft long curls, big brown eyes, kind smile, and gentle words. A _nyone can be nice for ten minutes. I’m nice for ten minutes._ Tonight was more about finding out who this girl really was, and meeting the rest of her family will give him a better understanding of her, and her family’s motivations.

They came to the Small Hall of the Tower where Arya and Bran were already standing behind their chairs waiting for everyone to arrive. The sun had gone down, and the candles glowing throughout the hall gave off a certain feeling of intimacy. Normally their household guardsmen and other bannermen would eat with them during supper time, but not tonight. Tonight it was just the two major families supping together in this giant hall. Calling this hall small was ironic to him, for it was anything but. The hall was long with high vaulted ceilings and bench space for two hundred.

“You look handsome tonight, Bran” Sansa said. Bran was wearing an outfit very similar to his own, but didn’t have the long flowing cape. Bran gave her a half smile and looked away staring at the entrance of the hall nervously. Robb smiled down at him and ruffled his hair trying to ease his tension. Bran smiled up at him uneasily, Bran looked to be a tad nervous about tonight.

“My, my, Arya, you look like an actual Lady this evening. Mother would be so proud of you,” Sansa said.

Arya folder her arms across her chest and sneered at her. Arya was wearing a northern style grey colored dress with a silver necklace around her neck. Her hair was done up the same way mother wore it, and had dark bangs covering her forehead. Robb thought she looked beautiful. Her outfit was no doubt instructed by father. Arya’s dress was still a bit more modest than the one Sansa wore. Sansa wore a red and gold colored dress with intricate designs of a stag’s antlers embroidered throughout. It was a gift from prince Joffrey apparently, Sansa had gone on about it insistently. Joffrey was seemingly marking Sansa as his territory, even when he wasn’t around. Joffrey may be the crowned prince, but he was still just a royal cunt.

“Don’t patronize me,” Arya said pessimistically.

Robb stepped forward and gently gripped Arya’s shoulders, and gave her a peck on the forehead. “You do look beautiful, little sister,” He said to her gently. He then turned back to Sansa. “Both of you do,” If he wasn’t mistaken, he believed he just made Arya blush slightly. Normally he might tease her about it, but not now, it wasn’t the time or place for such things.

They all turned when father came striding into the hall. He wore a pale grey doublet with a dark navy cape wrapped around him. His badge of office, the Hand of the King pendant was clasped at his neck tying the cape around him. “Good, you’re all here,” father said.

“The Tyrells are just outside,” Father paused eyeing both Arya and Sansa. “My, you both look beautiful, if only your mother could be here… I trust there will be no arguing between you two tonight. And no horseplay between anyone, is that understood?” Everyone nodded their heads to father in obedience. “Good.” He said.

Father then turned his head and nodded to the two guardsmen at the door. The metal hinges creaked loudly throughout the hall when the doors opened. Robb suddenly got an uneasy feeling in his stomach, but would refuse to let it show. He stood up straighter keeping his shoulders square to greet their guests. _Here we go._

 

The Tyrells walked into the hall with the elegance. Leading the small troupe was Lord Mace Tyrell. He wore a lavish doublet of green and velvet and a long flowing cape of gold. Robb had to suppress a chuckle when he saw him enter. The King was right; Mace Tyrell did walk like a woman. He swayed his hips from side to side with emphasis instead of walking with his shoulders. He was holding his head up so high Robb wasn’t entirely sure if he would find his way to the table. He walked with his wife Alerie. The tall silver haired woman looked regal in her long flowing green dress.

Walking behind their father with their arms linked were Ser Loras and lady Margaery, and she looked even more stunning then he remembered. She wore a low cut teal colored sleeveless dress with floral patterns embroidered throughout. The dress revealed how delicate and soft her skin looked, and her soft curling locks held a small flower above her left ear. It took everything within himself to keep from staring at her.

Loras looked far less intimidating out of his armor. His doublet was covered with elaborate floral patterns. Robb had thought his own outfit was over the top, but now looking at Loras, he didn’t feel as outlandish as before.

Beside them was Olenna Tyrell, the so call “Queen of Thorns. The small white haired frail looking old woman walked with a cane, and looked to be struggling with it. _People are scared of her?_ The woman didn’t look intimidating at all, she looked like she was about to break her back just walking down the hall. His father always taught him looks can be deceiving, but this was a little much. He hoped the moniker wasn’t supposed to be satirical. There was no need to insult a little old lady with cruel joke like that.

Ser Garlan Tyrell walked behind Lady Olenna with his pregnant wife, Lady Leonette. They walked with their arms linked through the intimately lit hall. The petite blue eyed blond was beautiful, and wore a delicate teal dress that did a good job of showing off her baby bump.

“My Lord Hand, thank you for inviting my family and I to dine with you and yours this fine evening. Let this be the beginning of a new era between our two noble houses,” Mace Tyrell said, bowing his head to father in respect.

Father extended his hand to the man, and then the Warden of the North and South shook hands. “Lord Tyrell, thank you for coming,” Father said.

Lord Mace Tyrell then turned his attention onto Robb. “Of course, my lord Hand. Ah, and this must be your son.”

Robb nodded to him and extended the same curtesy as his father. “Lord Tyrell, it is an honor to finally meet you.” Robb said giving the man a firm handshake, and a respectful nod. Mace Tyrell may look ridiculous, but he was still the Lord of Highgarden, and was to be his goodfather. The man deserved every respect. The formalities then went underway as everyone introduced themselves.

Robb found Ser Garlan much stronger than his younger brother. His shoulders were broader, and his body was a bit thicker, and he had the grip to prove it. It felt like his hand had gotten caught in a vice when Garlan shook his hand. Robb squeezed back just as hard to try not to show any weakness. After greeting Garlan and Leonette; Margaery and Loras approached him with warm smiles and kind words.

“I see you’ve kept your promise about your attire, lord Stark,” Margaery had said to him with a teasing smile, which caused him to chuckle at her joke. As far as first impressions went, Margaery had been far more than he had expected, in a very good way. Though that could prove differently as the night wore on.

Lady Olenna was a bit different however. It felt more like she was inspecting him rather than greeting him. Her gaze felt like she was scrutinizing a piece of fruit, trying to find the sore spot with a simple once over.

They took their seats with the Tyrells on one side of the table, and the Starks on the other. Robb sat in his normal seat to right hand of the head of the table, where father normally sat. Only not tonight, tonight, father sat to Robb’s right, directly across from Lord Mace Tyrell. Lady Olenna Tyrell sat at the head of the table. She had said something about her hips, and how they made it hard for her to walk. Margaery sat directly across from him, with her father next to her.

The first course served to them was a tomato based clam soup with various vegetables in it. The best thing about the capital so far was the food and drink. At least that part of the evening wouldn’t be a complete waste of time. Although he didn’t want to get lost in how good the food was, he wanted to focus on the people. It soon became apparent how Lord Tyrell became the size he did. Robb had barely begun his soup when Mace Tyrell was already downing half of it. _He does have a large appetite._ The way he ate sort of reminded him of King Robert, it was a wonder Robert didn’t like him.

“I love your dress, lady Sansa. The design, the fabric, the embroidery. It truly is remarkable,” Margaery said.

“I agree, it is beautifully made,” lady Leonette said, echoing Margaery’s sentiment.

“I’m so glad you like it. Prince Joffrey had it made for me. I’ll be wearing it tomorrow evening as well at the tournament banquet in the Great Hall. It should be a splendid affair, everyone will be there to celebrate the beginning of the Tournament,” Sansa said happily.

“How generous of his grace to bestow such a gift to you, lady Sansa,” Margaery said from her seat.

Robb picked his head up at the mention of prince Joffrey. He was still disappointed when he heard that Joffrey wouldn’t be taking part in the tournament. He had been hoping for a chance to plant his royal ass into mud. Robb had eyed Margaery closely when she spoke about Joffrey. She was smiling kindly at Sansa, but there was something gleaming in her eye. It was quick, and barely there, but he saw it nonetheless. _There she is._ Robb thought to himself. There was a fleeting look of jealously flickering in her eyes directed towards Sansa.

That was more like what he had expected to see from her. Marrying Joffrey meant becoming the next Queen. She may put on a good act in front of him, but she was probably just as excited about this arrangement as he was.

“The Queen has honored me a place beside her and the prince at their table tomorrow evening. I hear the Queen commissioned a travelling troupe of musicians from the free cities to perform tomorrow evening. They are supposed to be very good,” Sansa continued.

“That does sound wonderful,” Margaery said.

“Speaking of the tournament, Ser Garlan. Do you plan on entering with Ser Loras?” Sansa asked politely.

Garlan shook his head and smiled at his wife. “No, Tournaments are not for me. I’m not one for all that attention. I’m more than happy to sit and watch others perform. I’ll let Loras here garner all of that,” Leonette then leaned into him and kissed him on the check with affection.

“That is an attitude I admire, Ser Garlan. Too many needless accidents occur during these events,” Father said, he turned his head slightly to eye Robb with a look of displeasure. Robb put his head down slightly and reached for his cup of wine.

“I’m looking forward to the tournament myself. If your son’s handshake is as firm as his weapon hand, Lord Stark, then he should do well in the tournament,” Mace Tyrell said. Robb picked his head up, and raised his glass in salute to Lord Tyrell for the compliment.

“I must express my gratitude to you again for my appointment, Lord Stark. I know it was your recommendation that allowed me a place in his grace’s Kingsguard,” Ser Loras said.

Father nodded gave him a nod of acknowledgement. “You are a fine knight, Ser Loras. I know you will serve his grace loyally and honorably.”

“Here, here,” Mace Tyrell said, he then lifted his glass for the table to toast to Ser Loras. The glasses clanked softly against one another, and the Lord of Highgarden turned his attention back onto Robb.

“It is to my understanding that you and my daughter are already acquainted with one another, Robb,” Mace Tyrell said to him through another spoonful of soup.

Robb eyed Margaery directly across from him for a moment, taking quiet notice of how beautiful she looked in the low candlelight. The glow of the burning candles made her tanned skin and cascading brown curls give off a golden aura around her. With her sitting so close to him, he was finding it hard to keep himself from staring. But before he let his mind wander off anymore, he snapped back to the present. “Aye, we met yesterday out by the bay,” he said.

“I hope you will learn to keep that direwolf of yours chained up. I don’t know if I feel comfortable with the idea of such a beast loose around my daughter,” Mace told him.

Robb was about to speak up in defense of Grey Wind, but to his surprise, Margaery beat him to it. “I don’t believe there will be any need for that, father. Lord Stark displayed remarkable command over such an animal.”

Mace looked at his daughter protectively, but didn’t seem convinced by her words. “I still feel uneasy, my dear. I am only looking out for your safety. I don’t want you having to look over your shoulder and fearing an animal that has no business being domesticated.”

Robb could feel a grumbling of anger start to resonate within himself. He didn’t like what Mace Tyrell was suggesting. Robb narrowed his eyes slightly at him, trying not to show any emotion. “Your daughter has nothing to fear from Grey Wind, Lord Tyrell. I can assure you of that.” Robb said firmly. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised by the mistrust Lord Tyrell was displaying for Grey Wind, but he still didn’t like his tone.

“I should hope so, son. Or we will need to exchange words,” Mace said eyeing him carefully with an almost threatening tone of voice.

Robb almost growled in response, he wasn’t used to anyone talking down to him like that other than his father and mother. He was already starting to dislike this man who would be his goodfather.

“The direwolf did seem friendly yesterday, father. I believe we should take lord Stark at his word,” Loras said.

“Grey Wind only attacks if he senses a threat, Lord Tyrell,” Robb stated before turning his attention back onto Margaery sitting directly across from him. She smiled kindly back at him. “Although, from how beautiful you look tonight, my lady, perhaps your father is right to be a little wary,” Robb said flashing her playful smile. Her face then quirked into a shy smile, and the low light gaze away her blushing cheeks.

“I can barely believe my eyes. For I am witnessing charm, from a Northman no less. I thought such things were myths,” Came the voice of Olenna Tyrell sitting beside him.

Robb turned towards the white haired lady with a confident smile. He had been aware that her gaze had been on him for most of the evening so far, but he hadn’t let it bother him. “I merely speak my mind, lady Olenna.”

“I wonder where you get your charm from?” Olenna said eyeing his father for a moment.

“That would be his mother, lady Olenna. I can’t take credit for that,” Father said.

“I’ve always said the smart boys are the ones who listen to their mothers. If only more of them did, perhaps the land would be filled with scholars and not a bunch of fools waving around sticks,” lady Olenna said sharply, eyeing Mace Tyrell with a sharp gaze. Mace was either ignoring her intentionally, or just obliviously. Or maybe it was solely because the second course of food was being presented to them. A healthy serving of venison sirloin in a rich blackberry sauce, and a side of mixed vegetables and seasoned potatoes.

Robb was a little taken aback. If Robb ignored his own mother at the dinner table, he would be scolded for not paying attention, and then restricted from horseback riding the next day. Mace Tyrell’s obvious display of ignoring his mother, and then the subsequent roll of the eyes from lady Olenna, indicated that this sort of behavior was a regular accordance in Highgarden. _He doesn’t pay attention to his own mother?_

“My mother has been an invaluable resource during my time serving as acting Lord of Winterfell in my father’s absence. I don’t believe I would have been able to get through many of the hearings in Winterfell without her,” Robb stated honestly to lady Olenna.

“Your mother says you handle yourself well, Robb. I know how difficult the Northman can be, but you’ve done well,” Father stated.

“Thank you, father, but I’ve had a lot of help. Between your training, and mother, and Maester Luwin. It’s hard to mess things up too badly.” Robb stated before turning back to Mace Tyrell.

“I’m curious, Lord Tyrell. What does a hearing in Highgarden sound like? I’ve always wanted to know. After all, what is there to complain about in the land of the plenty? Are the apples too ripe, the wine too rich, is there too much food to go around?” Robb jested to him.

Mace Tyrell downed another cup of golden arbor wine before beginning to speak when a sharp laugh came from Robb’s left. “Ha! That would indicate that my son actually sits down on hearings, dear boy,” Olenna said with a genuine raucous laughter.

“Grandmother,” Margaery said with a slight smile trying to calm the elder lady down.

Robb turned back towards Mace Tyrell slightly confused. “You don’t sit down on your own hearings, Lord Tyrell?”

Mace Tyrell simply laughed at the notion. “My duties as Lord of Highgarden sometimes cause me to step away from many tedious lordly duties. I trust many of such tasks to others I trust. They then can have the honor of serving me while I am otherwise occupied,” Mace Tyrell said through another cup of wine.

Olenna rolled her eyes at her son again and scoffed in her seat. “Yes, my son believes his presence in certain hearings don’t benefit anyone. He believes that long hunting and hawking trips during matters of state are more vital to the continued growth of the Reach, and reputation of House Tyrell. He takes after his father in that regard,” Olenna said cynically.

Mace Tyrell laughed softly in his seat at his mother. “I apologize for my mother, my Lord Hand. She doesn’t understand that if you’re good at what you do, you have others deal with the trivial matters of the common folk, while we deal in the more important issues,” Mace said raising his glass in another toast.

Robb was completely blown away. That sort of logic was misguided, foolish, and lazy. He found himself growing angry at such a notion, and was becoming rapidly disgusted by the man sitting across from him. This man was everything Robert was but without the merit of victory and actual accomplishment to back it up. That sort of ruling went against everything he was taught by his father growing up. His father always told him that every man woman and child under the protection of House Stark, deserved to be able to be heard from their lord. It was a lord’s duty to sit and listen to his own people, to hear their pleas with his own ears.

Robb turned to his father with wide questioning eyes. His father actually wanted an alliance with this man. A man who would rather feast than commit to his lordly duties. A man that went against every value he was taught growing up. His father seemed to feel his gaze, and sadly silently nodded his head to him sensing his misgivings. Robb leaned back in his seat and ran his hands through his hair completely dumbfounded. There was definitely something more than taxes for his father to want this alliance, that was plain as day to him now.

Robb was trying to bite his tongue to not say something back to Mace Tyrell to say how misguided that kind of ruling was. “My boy, in time you will learn to understand that trivial matters are beneath our station, and are better suited for others to deal with,” Mace Tyrell said putting another piece of venison in his mouth nonchalantly.

Robb’s nose twitch slightly, and he found that couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. “I couldn’t disagree more, Lord Tyrell,” Robb stated with a slightly agitated tone.

Mace Tyrell nearly chocked on his food at what Robb said. “What did you say?” Mace Tyrell finally coughed out, after clearing his throat of food through another mouthful of golden wine.

Robb could feel every eye look at him with wide shocked expressions from that side of the table, but at that moment, he didn’t care. “I said, I disagree,” Robb began before sitting up straighter, and narrowing his eyes at the man. “What you’re saying is, if you want to be a good at what you do, you never have to work a day in your life. Well, I don’t buy that. I think if you want to be a good at what you do, you’re going to work all day, every day, harder, than everyone else. Because it’s not supposed to be easy, it’s not supposed to be… convenient! If you’re not willing to sit down and listen to your own people, then why in the seven hells should they be willing to listen to you!?” Robb said sternly and loudly, as if he were yelling at someone in the halls of Winterfell.

“Robb!” Father said to him quickly with some anger in his voice.

Robb stopped at his father’s words and let out an audible growl, he suddenly felt like a wolf being called off a deer after making a kill. Mace Tyrell’s face was beat red, and he looked like he was about to combust. Clearly he hadn’t been talked down to like that in a long time. Robb scolded himself. He had forgotten for a second where he was. This wasn’t Winterfell, and Mace Tyrell wasn’t a Stark bannermen he had the authority to lecture. This was the Warden of the South, and a very powerful man that he just treated like a child.

“How dare you speak to me like that, boy!” Mace Tyrell said through furrowed brows.

Robb took a deep breath to calm himself, and he rubbed his eyes to focus himself out of that sudden cloud of anger. “I apologize, Lord Tyrell. I suppose I’m still tired from the road. I am far from home, and I am not accustomed to your southern ways. I am sure your way of ruling works very well for you. After all, you are the Lord of Highgarden, Warden of the South, High Marshall of the Reach, and the King’s own Master of Ships. Clearly, you know what it takes to be successful,” Robb said, trying to regain the civility between them by naming all the man’s titles.

Mace Tyrell settled down a bit at his apology. “That I do, but don’t forget Defender of the Marches,” he said.

Robb nearly sneered at him, but had recovered enough to not let it show. “Of course, my Lord, how could I forget such a prestigious honor. I clearly have much to learn. Please forgive my transgressions,” He said trying to sound sincere, but part of him wanted to punch this man in the face, and tear that ridiculous mustache from the face of the earth.

“Very well, I will look past your sudden lack of respect this one time, but not again, son,” Mace Tyrell said.

Robb bit his lip trying hard not to growl at him. “Thank you, my lord,” Robb said. He picked up his goblet of wine and downed it quickly, wiping his mouth clean and letting out a low exasperated grunt when he was done.

“You were right, my dear. He is bold indeed,” Lady Olenna said. The two women were looking at each other with artful smiles. They seemed like they were having a silent conversation with each other.

Margaery then turned her gaze on him. Her lips were curled into a tight smile, and her mouth hung open slightly. But, it was her eyes that made him feel a little uneasy. She was looking at him with an intense stare. The low candlelight made her eyes look like molten gold, and he wasn’t sure if it was anger in her eyes, or desire, but whatever it was, it felt primal.

As beautiful as she was, Robb suddenly got a very bad feeling about this whole arrangement. He knew for certainty that if Margaery believed the same sort of things as her father, then this whole marriage would truly be unpleasant. She seemed content to hide behind a mask of smiles and be fake, then to speak her own mind publicly. But Robb’s biggest question was; what was the real reason his father was willing to put up with this family?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading
> 
> Cheers


	11. Eleven

Margaery sat in her room in the Maidenvault, currently getting ready for the feast being held in the Great Hall tonight. The evening sunset shined into the room cascading all the occupants with a radiant orange glow. She wore her flower embroidered sleeveless teal dress. Her handmaidens were currently putting the finishing touches on her hair. Many women of the court wore elaborate hair styles with interlaced braids and curls to match Queen Cersei. Margaery took a different approach, wearing only a simple braid while letting the rest fall past her shoulders. It was something simple to make herself stand out amongst the other ladies of the court.

“Do you think he will ask you to dance tonight, my lady?” Elinor asked excitedly as she placed a golden rose in her hair above her left ear.

“I suppose he will,” Margaery answered.

Elinor giggled again with Megga and Alla. “Who would have guessed Robb Stark to be that handsome?”

Margaery smiled to herself. Her cousins had been gushing over Robb Stark and Theon Greyjoy since they met them out by the bay. Margaery herself had to admit that they were both very attractive. For some reason she had been preparing for the worst when it came to appearances with her betrothed. Although Sansa Stark was very beautiful, and even Lord Eddard Stark himself had a certain masculine appeal, Margaery couldn’t help herself in imagining Robb as the typical Northern lord. She had imagined a big, hairy, ill-mannered young man with an unkempt beard and only a handful of teeth. Instead, Robb was handsome, strong, confident, and more than a little dashing.

“He is rather good looking isn’t he?” Margaery said.

“And that Greyjoy is handsome as well. Did you see those dark locks and toned chest? Do you think he is looking for a betrothed as well?” Alla quipped from her seat by the window. Margaery had never met an Iron Islander before, and their dark legacy of being reapers and pillagers made her wary of him. It was interesting to see that Robb and Theon looked to be close friends. Considering that Theon Greyjoy was basically a hostage of the Starks, she had expected to see a bit more resentment. But then again, perhaps he was resentful and knew how to hide it, and was only pretending to be friends with the heir to the North.

“You know my lady. I must admit, I felt a little sorry for you having to move to the barren North, but now, I’m completely jealous.” Margaery raised a questioning eyebrow at Elinor through the reflection of the mirror. “Think about out it. It will be cold and snowy outside, but you’ll be inside, by the fire, under thick blankets, with those arms wrapped around you every night. It will be so romantic,” Elinor said with wistful tone and a faraway look in her eye as she gazed out the open window.

Margaery smiled to herself again at Elinor, the girl was still a bit of a hopeless romantic. Even though Margaery wasn’t as turned off about the match as before, she still wasn’t keen on the whole idea.  She hated the idea of having to live in the cold barren wasteland that was the North. Being trapped in a frozen fortress in the middle of nowhere, thousands of miles from civilization for the rest of her life was not a very tempting proposition, no matter how attractive she found her betrothed to be. But in the end, it didn’t really matter what she wanted, did it?

“What is taking so long in here?” Came a sharp voice into Margaery’s room. Elinor and the other girl’s voices grew quiet and a collective quick sucking in of breath could be heard from her cousins. Margaery only smiled recognizing her grandmothers voice. Lady Olenna walked slowly into her room, her wooden cane making a cold hollow sound on the stone floor.

“We’re sorry, my lady. We are done,” Elinor said quickly, trying to avoid eye contact with grandmother.

“Oh good, and here I thought it would take longer than an hour for three of you to prim a flower,” Olenna said sardonically.

“We apologize, my lady. We were only…”’

“Oh stop sweating my dear. I know what you were doing. I was your age as well once, as hard as it may be for you to imagine. Now go, I’ll finish up here,” Olenna said. The girls quietly left the room leaving her alone with her grandmother.

Olenna moved to the seat next to her and Margaery regarded her fully as she sat down. “They act like they’ve never seen a boy without a shirt on before in their entire lives,” Olenna said.

“They were only being nice, grandmother.” Margaery started.

Grandmother let out a slight moan as she repositioned herself in her seat. “I could hear them from down the hall. They sounded like a group of cackling hyenas rather than ladies of House Tyrell. Where is that northern handmaiden of yours? She seemed to be a bit more composed.”

“I let her spend some time with her family,” Margaery stated before beginning again. “How is father doing? I haven’t seen him all day.” Margaery said quickly trying to change the subject. Father was more than a little upset after last night. After Robb had basically scolded her father at last night’s dinner, he had been less enthusiastic about the marriage then before. She had somewhat hoped maybe he was so upset he would cancel the wedding altogether.

“Your father is fine, my dear. A bit of a wounded pride, but he’ll quickly recover. He’s enjoying his new position too much to let something like that get in his way.”

Margaery glowered slightly to herself at that. She should a have known better, her father has wanted more influence in the capital for a long time. Now that he finally has it, he wasn’t going to give it up so easily.

“In fact, he spent the entire day with your uncle Paxtor Redwyn. They are already beginning plans to recall the Royal fleet from Dragonstone.  Stannis Baratheon has nearly every ship in the Royal Fleet there, curious,” Olenna said.

“What is?” Margaery asked.

“Stannis, he leaves the small council abruptly after Lord Jon Arryn dies, and then locks himself away on Dragonstone and begins gathering the full might of the Royal Fleet to him.”

“Sounds like he was preparing for something,” Margaery said.

“Indeed, but what, I wonder?” Olenna asked. Margaery eyed her grandmother closely. She had that look on her face when she was playing coy. Margaery started to think of what her grandmother was thinking. Margaery had only met Stannis Baratheon once. It had been a number of years ago when the King and his court had visited Highgarden. She had been a young girl of six, but she still remembered how rigid and stern he had seemed. Lord Stannis had been on King Robert’s council as Master of Ships for the last seventeen years. What would make him leave the capital like that?

“Perhaps he was angry at King Robert for being passed over for Lord Stark as Hand of the King?” Margaery said. It made sense to her, after serving his brother for so long on the council only to be passed over for Eddard Stark had to be a hard thing to swallow.

“Perhaps,” Grandmother answered her. Though Margaery caught the look her grandmother gave her. That wasn’t the answer she was looking for, which made her even more curious about what she was thinking.

“Are you ready for tonight?” Olenna said.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Margaery said letting out a defeated breath.

“Good, and the sooner you come to terms with this marriage, the easier it will be for you,” Olenna said.

Margaery let out a soft laugh. “I suppose that’s true. You quite enjoyed that little outburst last night, didn’t you?”

Olenna smiled and let out a light chuckle of her own. “I did find it quite amusing. I haven’t seen your father turn that shade of purple since he was a boy.”

Margaery had silently enjoyed watching Robb lecture her father as well. For too long her father has taken credit for everything when it came to running the Reach. While he does sit down on some summits, it’s not near as many as he should. While he was out hunting, hawking, and feasting. It was her eldest brother, Wilas, who was actually ruling for him, with grandmother’s help, of course. So in truth, it was a little inspiring to see someone finally call him out on his laziness. Although, it wasn’t the brightest move to make at that point in time politically. Father knew when he was being insulted, and Robb Stark was lucky he had apologized as quickly as he did. 

She did like Robb’s assertiveness and passion last night. An assertive man was far more attractive than a meek and shy one, and far more useful too. While she did like what Robb had to say, it proved just how brash and foolish he was. Saying that to someone as powerful as her father was careless, at best. He seemed to lack any sort of political acuity. He may be handsome, strong, and charming, but he was still just a young man trying too hard to be like his father.

“I told you he was bold,” Margaery said. _And maybe a little stupid._ Margaery thought.

“Yes, although, bold men do have a tendency to die young. But with only a little work, you can turn that boldness to suit your own purposes. Once he falls for you and your beauty, you will be the one directing him. And what a chance that is. The Starks are leaders. It’s the reason they have been in power for as long as they have. Robb Stark is a bold young man with passion and strong conviction. If he is as honorable as his father, then he should treat you well. That can be a very useful and powerful tool if used properly. And he’s all yours for the taking,” Her grandmother said.

Margaery didn’t say anything back to her. She only looked at her reflection in the mirror again. She wasn’t sure if her grandmother was just trying to help her come to terms with the marriage, or was trying to tell her something else completely, but she supposed she was right either way. The best thing for her to do now was just accept this was happening and move on. She didn’t really see any way out of it, so, she would do just that. Grandmother stood to her feet and took her by the hand. “Come, my dear. Let us dance with the wolves.”

 

* * *

 

 

The feast was being held in the Great Hall of the Red-Keep. Sansa was right about one thing; it was an extravagant event. The entire hall was filled to the brim with lords and ladies dining to celebrate the beginning of the Tournament. There were musicians, dancers and many forms of entertainment. Every so often lords and ladies would gather in the center to dance to a certain song before going back to the feast. The Royal Family sat at the head table directly in front of the Iron Throne. The Starks and Tullys sat on their right, while the Tyrells sat on the left side of the room. Their three tables forming a horseshoe shape without the curves. The other lords and houses and various knights all feasted in the middle at trestle tables stretching all the way back to the doors of the throne room.

Robb sat between his father and uncle Edmure at their table during the feast. Father was still angry with him for how he acted last night towards Lord Mace Tyrell. Father had reamed him out for nearly an hour after everyone had left the Tower. It was the loudest and angriest his father had ever been to him, and Robb didn’t blame him. He knew he acted rashly and stupidly. Robb didn’t know what had come over him, he didn’t know why he had become so angry so quickly. He just wasn’t used to having to sit and hold his tongue while another lord was lecturing him on how to be an incompetent ruler. Combining that with the many things Dacey Mormont had to say about Lynesse Hightower during the near two-month journey to the capital, he supposed he was just looking for an excuse to be angry with the Tyrells.

Robb was thankful Lord Tyrell was in a forgiving mood last night, if someone had said those same things to King Robert, or father… _Stupid, Stupid._ Robb said to himself again for the thousandth since last evening. He couldn’t piss and moan about the marriage anymore, he knew that now. This was happening, he couldn’t deny that to himself any longer. He had to embrace it, not shun it away by condemning every flaw he saw about it.

Robb picked his head up at the slamming of a fist and plates shattering. “That’s right! And then I knocked him down in the mud! What a tournament that was!” King Robert shouted loudly from his seat. Robb smiled to himself watching the King. _He never does stop talking about the past does he?_ Robert was being his normal jovial self at the Royal table. But Queen Cersei, on the other hand, looked on in utter contempt at her husband. She was rolling her eyes at him all evening, and her body language showed she wanted nothing more than to be anywhere else then where she was. Sansa was sitting beside Queen Cersei at the Royal table, and was currently playfully feeding prince Joffrey grapes. Robb could only look on with a knot in his stomach watching them.

Sansa had liked Joffrey the second she laid eyes on him. _He’s so handsome._ She always said, and to be fair, he was that. He had his mother’s features with the signature Lannister blonde hair and green eyes. He wore the finest silks and jewelry befitting a prince of royalty. Tonight the prince wore a gold doublet with a ruby studded lion pendant around his neck, and a golden ring with black onyx around his index finger. Robb looked down at his own outfit, the same one he wore for the dinner last night, and realized that this wasn’t as luxurious as he had thought it was.

_He looks like a girl._ Robb laughed to himself remembered Jon’s description of Joffrey so long ago.  While he may look the part of dashing young prince, Robb remembered Joffrey differently. He remembered Joffrey insulting him in the training yard in Winterfell for not using live steel that day. He also caught how the prince looked at everyone, as if they were all beneath him, that they should lick his boots simply for being nearby. But a handsome prince can do no wrong in Sansa’s eyes. He was thankful father was making him foster for a year before they were to be man and wife. Hopefully that would change his attitude, but somehow, he doubted it.

“She hasn’t stopped looking at you the entire evening,” Edmure said to him in a low voice.

“Who?” Robb asked but already knowing the answer. He turned his head and followed Edmure’s gaze across the hall. Margaery quickly looked away in another direction once he turned to look at her. _She is probably pissed at me._  His father wanted him to make a good impression on lady Margaery, instead, he insulted her father right in front of her and her whole family. _I’m such a fool._

“Make sure to apologize again to lady Margaery and Lord Tyrell for how you acted last night, Robb,” Father said to him with a voice of ice. Robb put his head down slightly hearing the disappointed tone of voice his father was using. Knowing he had let down his father hurt more than anything else in the world.

“I will father. I apologize again, I acted rashly and foolishly last night,” Robb said with sorrow.

“It’s not me you need to be apologizing to,” Father said in the same cold tone of voice.

Robb nodded his head and looked back toward Margaery. He really didn’t know what to say, or even how to apologize in a way that would sound believable. He supposed words wouldn’t be able to prove it. He would have to prove to her some other way he wasn’t as rash and foolish as she no doubt believed him to be.

“And what about you Edmure? There are a number of young maidens here tonight looking your way,” Father said.

“Oh no, I’m here for Robb’s wedding. I don’t plan on looking for a wife while I’m here,” Edmure stated.

“I think it’s time you started to think about it, Edmure. It’s long past time you took a wife. I’m sure your father would like to see his son wed at some point.”

“In time, goodbrother, in time, but not tonight. I’ve heard enough persuading from Jonos Bracken. He has been trying to trap me into meeting one of his daughters this entire trip,” Edmure said gesturing over to where the Brackens were sitting down the hall next to members of House Piper. Lord Bracken was sitting with his two daughters Barbara and Jeyne. The two riverlander girls were often sending fleeting looks towards Edmure. Edmure was nearly double Robb’s age, and has avoided marriage this whole time. He wondered how he was able to do it?

The music in the hall then changed tempos to a much slower melody. Many couples were now forming up to dance to the slower music towards the center of the hall. “A dance with one of them will have be enough to quench his thirst for the time being.” Edmure then stood to his feet and made his way over to the Brackens table. Robb smiled to himself watching his uncle take the hand of the comely brunette Barbara Bracken in a dance.

Robb had been watching Edmure and didn’t noticed a bald plump man in large purple robes had approached their table. The plump man smelled of strawberries, and bowed his head in respect to his father, and then eyed Robb with a crafty smile. “Lord Varys, it is good to see you this evening. Have you met my son, Robb? Robb, this is lord Varys, the King’s Master of Whisperers,” Father said.

“The pleasure is all mine, my lord.” Varys said to him with an almost feminine like voice. Robb greeted the man with respect regardless.

“Lord Varys, it is an honor,” Robb said with a strong voice. He then stood to his feet and firmly shook his hand and gave him a lordly nod. When he let go and sat back down, Robb noticed his hand was stained with a light powder residue that held the strawberry scent.

“I am sorry to disturb you from this fine evening, my Lord Hand. But there is something I must inform you of,” Varys said with a grave voice. Robb eyed him cautiously, the way this man was looking at his father made him nervous. Father leaned back in his seat and wrapped an arm around Arya’s shoulder who was sitting on his other side. “What is it?” Father responded.

“A storm rises in the east, my Lord,” Varys said with a grave tone and a sad smile looking between Arya and Father. Father narrowed his eyes studying the spider for a long silent moment. “I must speak with lord Varys privately. I will be back shortly.” Father said quickly. He then stood to his feet and nodded to Varys. “Be sure to dance with lady Margaery at least once tonight, Robb. Your mother will have my head, then yours, if you don’t. I’d like to avoid lying to her about it in a letter.”

Father then gave Arya a kiss on the top of her head before departing out of the hall with Varys. “That man creeps me out,” Arya said gesturing to lord Varys once they were both out of earshot.

“He smells good,” Bran said from beside her.

“Are you going to go yell at Mace Tyrell again, Robb? That was really funny,” Arya said with a giggle.

Robb smiled and shook his head at her. “No,” Robb wanted to know what Varys meant by what he said, but he had other things to focus on at the moment. He looked back towards Margaery, and this time she held his gaze and smiled at him from across the hall.

And that was all he needed. “I’ll be back,” Robb said to his siblings before standing to his feet. He walked around their table playfully ruffling Bran’s hair on the way by. He made his way across the Great Hall maneuvering around the many lord’s tables in his way. He could hear his mother’s words in his head the closer he got to her. “ _Greet her with a smile, ask her to dance, compliment her about something.” This would be a whole lot easier if I hadn’t acted like such a fool last night._

He was brought out of his thoughts when someone wearing heavy white colored plate armor suddenly bumped into him. The plate armor clanked lightly against his chest, and Robb was now face to face with Ser Jaime Lannister.

“Oh, excuse me, Ser Jaime. I apologize, I didn’t see you there,” Robb said kindly to the blonde haired green eyed knight.

Jaime Lannister eyed him with a jeering smile that cut like a knife. “Ah, Robb Stark. I imagine we will be running into each other in more ways than one in the coming days. I hear you are going to be taking part in the joust.”

Robb nodded his head to him and stood up a bit straighter confidently squaring his shoulders. “Aye, it will be my first. I am looking forward to the challenge.”

“Good, it’s about time we had some Stark blood in these tournaments. Your father doesn’t seem to like them too much.”

Robb let out soft friendly laugh at that. “No, no he doesn’t. I don’t think he likes the idea of me entering either.”

Jaime’s eyes danced with some mirth. “I know what it’s like having a father disapprove of your actions. I still remember the look on my father’s face when I joined the Kingsguard. His face turned all red and I swear I saw smoke come out of his ears. I can only imagine the look on Eddard Stark’s face when you said you were going to enter. Was it something similar?” Jaime asked with a laugh.

“It was more like a stern icy glare,” Robb said laughing with him.

“I know that stare well. I’m sure it has spoiled many a man’s pants throughout the years.” Jaime said with another laugh before he clasped a gauntleted hand on Robb’s shoulder. “It’s good to know you have a sense of humor, Stark. I was worried yours might have been buried under all that snow like your fathers.”

“I suppose, but my father has far more to worry about than I do.”

Jaime paused for a moment and eyed the Royal Table. “That he does, looking after our King Robert is a quite the challenge. Look what it did to Jon Arryn,” Jaime said darkly to him.

Robb turned and eyed him with an uneasy smile. A sudden pit started forming in his stomach. The way he said that was a bit unnerving. “She is quite the rose, isn’t she, Stark? You must be eager about the wedding,” Jaime said leaning into his ear while directing their attention over at Margaery. She was holding a goblet of wine to her lips and was watching them with keen interest. Her eyes looked like smoky quartz in the candlelight. He gave her a small smile before speaking aloud. “Aye, she is very beautiful.” Robb said. Eager may be pushing it, accepting may be a bit closer to home. But Jaime Lannister didn’t need to know that.

Jaime patted him on the back a bit harder than was really necessary. “That’s the spirit I want to hear. Your uncle had spirit too, more spirit than your father ever did. I only knew your uncle briefly. He seemed a good man, your grandfather as well. A shame you never got to meet them.”

Jaime was a couple inches taller than Robb, and he moved in even closer to him. “You know, they both died right here, in this very hall all those years ago.”  Jaime said in a low voice while gripping his shoulder a bit harder. “It truly is an amazing thing what time can do. It can turn the very room that housed such a tragedy into a joyous occasion such as this.”

Robb tried to moved away from Jaime by stepping back slightly and moving his shoulder trying to shake off his hand. But Jaime clasped him again and brought himself in close again.

“Although, when I’m in here guarding the Throne, I can sometimes still hear their voices call out,” Jamie paused for a moment and eyed him with crafty smile. “Do you know how they died? Did your father ever tell you that story?”

Robb silently shook his head no. Father never did talk about how uncle Brandon and grandfather died. It was just something that wasn’t talked about in Winterfell. All he knew was that they died, by the order of the Mad King Aerys Targaryen.

 “No?” Jaime started, before leaning closer into Robb’s ear. “I suppose he wouldn’t would he. Lord Eddard Stark has never been the talkative type. “The quiet wolf”, they used to call him. And who would be brave enough to rehash such a story in Winterfell to the children?” Jaime was standing so close to him now that he could feel his breath, and it was starting to make the hairs on the back of Robb’s neck stand to attention.

“Sometimes I can still hear their screams like echoes through time. You see, the Mad King had your brother arrested for treason because he challenged Prince Rhegar to a duel. Your grandfather then rode south to try and secure his release. Instead, the Mad King had him arrested for treason as well. Your grandfather, Lord Rickard, then demanded a trial by combat. But, the Mad King named, fire, the champion of House Targaryen, and had your grandfather suspended from the rafters of the throne room, while pyromancers lit a blaze beneath him. His screams of agony while being burned alive in his armor is something I will never forget,” Jaime said darkly into his ear.

He then gripped Robb’s shoulder with his gauntlet even harder to keep him from moving away. Robb could feel the metal of the armor start to pinch his skin underneath his doublet. “As he burned, your uncle was brought into the Throne room. A leather cord attached to a strangulation device was wrapped around his neck, and a longsword was placed just out of his reach. The more he tried to reach it, the more the leather tightened around his throat. Your uncle strangled himself to death trying to save his father, who roasted alive in his own armor squealing like a pig. Such a brave man, such a foolish man, your uncle.”

Robb starter to grow darker and angrier the more Jaime talked. His blood began to boil and he unconsciously began to ball his fists in rage. He tried once more to just walk away, but Jaime kept a firm hand on his shoulder and brought his ear close again.

“Once they were both dead, the Mad King was laughing harder than I had ever seen him laugh before. And you know what? Not a single man stepped forward to stop it. The entire court was witness to what happened, and not a single word was spoken… Though, I suppose their deaths are bittersweet for you. If they hadn’t of died, then your uncle would have married your mother, and you would have never been born. So, I suppose, you could say, that you owe your life to the Mad…” before the Kingslayer could finish his sentence, Robb turned around to face him, cocked his fist, and punched Jaime Lannister as hard as he could right in the face.

The Kingslayer staggered back a few feet grabbing at his face in pain. Blood started pooling in Jaime’s hands and began to leak through his fingers. He covered his nose trying to keep the red liquid from dripping to the floor. 

A loud gasp quickly collected throughout the Great Hall and the room suddenly grew silent. The musicians stopped playing music, the dancers stopped moving, and everyone stopped eating. Lords and ladies whispered to each other in hushed tones. Even the King had stopped talking and looked on in shocked surprise. Robb could feel every eye in the room looking at him now. He glanced back over at his siblings for a moment. Arya was standing on top of her chair, and was holding a knife in her hands. She looked about ready to jump over the table. Bran sat with wide eyes staring right at him unsure of what to do. His father was nowhere to be seen. Robb didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing in his current situation.

He then glanced back over to the Royal table and spotted a pair of green eyes glaring at him angrily. The Queen was looking at him in such a way that almost made his knees falter from under him. It was the angriest he had ever seen a woman look his way in all his life. Even when his mother was most angry at him, he could still see the love in her eyes. Queen Cersei looked down at him like a lioness about to eat her prey. She opened her mouth to speak and Robb silently prepared himself for what was about to happen to him, until something else happened.

“HAHAHAHA!!!!” King Robert roared out in laughter. His laughter was thick and rich, and his face was starting to turn a deep red. The King clutched his stomach and spilled his wine onto the floor unable to keep his laughter under control. “Now that, was the funniest thing I’ve seen in a long time!!” Robert roared out in laughter again. The Northern lords soon began laughing as well, and shortly the rest of the hall began laughing alongside their king.

Queen Cersei stood to her feet in uncoiled rage. “Will you do nothing! That boy just attacked my own blood, and a member of your Kingsguard!!  He should be put in chains! He should be…” Cersei shouted.

Robert looked at his wife and began laughing even harder. The Queen bore daggers into her husband with her eyes before gathering her silks and storming out of the hall. Jaime then walked back up to him still holding his bloody nose in his hands. “I’ll see you out on the field tomorrow, Stark. I hope you last long enough for me to put you into the dirt,” Jaime said to him with a growl. Jaime then bumped him hard with his shoulder guard before walking out after his sister.

Robb let out a deep breath that he had been holding for what felt like an eternity. All the lords around him had gone back to their conversations, the music began playing again and the dancers went back to dancing again. It was as if nothing had even happened, but to Robb, it felt like the entire earth had moved beneath his feet. He was fuming at himself. He had let Jaime Lannister get in his head. He suddenly felt hot, and he needed to get out of the hall to cool himself off. He quickly moved around the many tables and out one of the side passages of the Great Hall to find some place to quiet his mind.

He swiftly walked through the halls of the Red-Keep in search of some quiet, and was completely oblivious to the whispers and shocked expressions of the servants and guards who occupied the marble corridor with him. He willed himself forward intent not to stop until he found someplace away from everyone else. He was going to the only place that felt like home, the Godswood.

The Godswood of the Red-Keep wasn’t as large as Winterfell’s, but it was a welcomed sight nonetheless. When he stepped out onto the dirt covered ground and felt the breeze of the cool night air, he allowed himself to begin to relax. He slowly walked further and further into the Godswood, the sounds from the Great Hall and the smell of the city was slowly giving way to the small oasis of forest he currently found himself in. The moon was up and the stars were out, with only a few passing clouds in the sky. The moonlight shined down into the small acre of land illuminating the darkness around him.

The brush of the Godswood held a smattering of elm, alder, and black cottonwood trees. Robb stepped over their leaves that littered the ground, and passed through a patch of blueberry bushes in search of the heart tree. When he found it, he finally allowed himself to exhale. The heart tree here in King’s Landing was a great oak with overgrowing smokeberry vines throughout its branches. While the tree was impressive and beautiful, it wasn’t a Wierwood, and it served as yet another reminder of how much he missed Winterfell.

Robb kneeled before the great oak heart tree and put his hand up against the bark. He didn’t know if the old gods could hear him from all the way down here, but he prayed to them for guidance nonetheless. Everything around him slowly started to fade away. He closed his eyes, relaxed his senses, steadied his breathing, and began listening to the quiet sounds of nature. The leaves of the trees ruffled in the cool night breeze, night crickets were making their noises in the darkness, and somewhere an owl hooted in the background. He could start to feel the stress of the past few days start to leave him, and his mind slowly started to focus again. Just when he was about to completely fall into a calm and serene state of mind, he heard the sound of a twig snap behind him. He quickly turned around and was surprised by what he found.

* * *

 

 

Margaery had followed Robb out of the Great Hall after he left. She had been watching him the entire evening wondering when he would come over and ask her dance. When it seemed like he was finally making his way towards her, the exchange between Robb and the Kingslayer happened. If insulting her father at dinner wasn’t shocking enough, Robb had managed to make even that seem miniscule in comparison. Her breath had seized in her lungs for what felt like an eternity. The entire hall looked on in shock at Robb Stark standing over a staggering and bloodied Ser Jaime Lannister.

But what had surprised her even more was what happened next, nothing. His grace’s own goodbrother, and the Queen’s own blood, was struck in the face in front of everyone, and the King just...laughed. It suddenly became vividly clear just how much influence the Starks had over King Robert. Robb Stark may be one of the only men in the Seven Kingdoms not to lose his head for such an act.

Margaery had watched the whole exchange from the beginning, and she clearly saw Robb being provoked. Jaime Lannister had walked right into him on purpose. They seemed to be joking around at first, but Robb’s face quickly changed from friendliness to anger. The Kingslayer had been leaning into him menacingly, like a lion sizing up its prey. But a wolf doesn’t back down to being threatened, does it.  She noticed Robb try to pull away and distance himself from the Kingslayer more than once, but Jaime wouldn’t let him go. Margaery wanted to know what they had talked about. Jaime had directed their attention onto her before Robb went off on him. _Were they talking about me?_

Margaery had politely excused herself from the table, causing nearly everyone sitting there to look at her in surprise. Everyone except for her grandmother, that was. Grandmother gave her an approving smile and quiet nod of the head, and could hear her making up an excuse for her as she departed.

Robb was walking so fast down the corridor she barley caught sight of him rounding the corner at the end of the hall. She couldn’t move very fast in her dress, at least not near a pace that he was walking at. When she rounded the same corner he had just gone down, she caught sight of him disappearing into the Godswood of the Red-Keep. When she stood outside the entrance of the Godswood herself, she internally debated whether to go in and look for him. From where she stood it looked dark and spooky, and the breeze was a little cold against her skin, but it was her curiosity that eventually got the better of her. When she stepped outside into the Godswood, she quickly realized just how dark it was. In Highgarden, the Godswood was constantly being upkeep by gardeners. Here in the Red-Keep, leaves littered the ground showing little to no signs of human activity, and there was no real true path to follow, it was only woods.

The moonlight kept passing in-between the clouds, and it went from being completely dark to barley visible. She came through a patch of blueberry bushes and her dress got caught on the brush and tore a part of the fabric. _Curses._

 She was starting to become more and more frightened by the darkness and the eerie sounds of the woods. The sounds of the Great Hall were becoming muted by the deafening sounds of crickets in the night. She turned back around and couldn’t see the entrance any longer, and was only surrounded by blackness. It didn’t feel like she was in a castle, it felt like she was back in the Kingswood, but this time without an escort to protect her. The further she travelled in, the colder she became, and the more her skin was starting to grow goose bumps. And somewhere out there in the blackness, she could feel a pair of eyes following her. But she had travelled this far, she was determined to find him.

She moved around a few more alder trees when she finally found him. Robb was kneeling before the heart tree with his head down. _He keeps the old gods._ She wasn’t all that religious herself. She saw it more as a useful tool to keep the smallfolk in line with the promise of a better afterlife. She still practiced many of their teachings to save face for House Tyrell, but she didn’t believe it as devoutly as the majority did. She had been brought up under the Faith of the Seven, and had little to no knowledge or understanding of the Old Gods.

She quietly watched him for a few minutes. He was completely out of his element here in the King’s Landing wasn’t he _._ The Northerners had a different way of life, and were far removed from the intrigues of the south. _“The Starks are leaders.”_ Grandmother had said. Robb probably wasn’t used to having to play nice and placate others, not when his word was law in the North.

 She had been so focused on trying to find him that she hadn’t thought of what she was going to actually say to him once she did. He was praying to his gods, and she felt disturbing him would be like intruding on something sacred. Her ears picked up at the wind picking up speed. The rustling of leaves and the strange sounds in the surrounding darkness was beginning to scare her, and there was a spine crawling feeling that something was watching her out there in blackness of the night.    _What in the Seven Hells am I doing here?_ Suddenly an owl hooted out of nowhere from what felt like right above her, and it nearly startled her out of her shoes. She then took a step back, and the sound of a fallen branch snapping echoed out into the woods from underneath her foot. When she picked her head back up, she found a very surprised Robb Stark on his feet looking directly at her.

“Lady Margaery?” Robb said with a look of clear confusion. She looked down at her outfit, and realized she was much filthier than she realized. Her shoes were covered in dirt, her dress was partially torn, and the cool night breeze was starting to feel cold against the exposed parts of her skin. “What are you doing out here?” Robb asked.

_That’s a good question._ She was completely out of her element here. It took her a second to regain her composure after being spotted. She looked back up at Robb’s face and found he had formed a curiously amused smile. Margaery involuntarily took a few steps towards him. His smile through the darkness was so inviting. “I wanted to make sure you were alright,” She finally said.

Robb then looked down at the ground hanging his head in shame. “Not one of my finer moments, to be sure.”

Margaery smiled slightly to herself at him. _At least he realizes it._ Lesser men would only blame others when they had made a mess of things themselves. “Well, you certainly know how to make friends. You insult the Warden of the South one night, and break Jaime Lannister’s nose the next. What should I prepare for next? Will you start a war?”

Robb shook his head while it still hung. “You must think me the biggest fool in the Seven Kingdoms,” he said with a defeated tone in clear disgust with himself.

Margaery raised an eyebrow at him. He was being vulnerable with her. Grandmother wanted to make him fall for her. This was the perfect opportunity to do just that.

 “Not the biggest fool in the Kingdoms… I think Butterbumps still has you beat,” She said dryly to him. 

Robb picked his head up and let out a soft chuckle. “Well that’s good news,” he said with smile.

She didn’t know where her humor came from. Normally she wouldn’t dare start with such a statement to a high lord such as a Stark. She didn’t know him well enough if it would be well received or not. She chalked it up to being a little bit flustered from being out here in the woods. She let out another breath and relaxed a bit more after he smiled at her again.

She took another step closer to him so that she was only an arm length away. “I saw the whole thing. I saw the way he was leaning into you. What did Jaime Lannister say that got you so upset? Was it about me?”

Robb met her eyes and vehemently shook his head. “No, we did talk about you, but, that’s not what got me upset.”

“What then?” She asked quickly.

He looked at her for a long moment, seemingly debating with himself what he should tell her. “The Kingslayer was just trying to get into my head,” he finally said. _Clearly_ , _but why?_  She wasn’t satisfied with his answer. It was a half-truth, and she knew it. Margaery was about to try to get him to open up more to her, but her breath seized in her lungs when she spotted a pair of glowing yellow eyes appear behind him.

Robb noticed her face and turned around to follow her gaze. “Grey Wind, here.” Robb said to the eyes surrounded by darkness. The smoke colored direwolf emerged out of the blackness and stopped beside Robb.

Even though Margaery had already spent time with the direwolf, it didn’t mean she was completely comfortable around him. The beast stood near as tall as Robb, about up to his chest. It would take more than a simple introduction to get used to such an animal. It was more than a little remarkable that the Stark boys held such command over their beasts.

“I’m sorry if Grey Wind still frightens you, my lady. I’m sure it’s still a shock seeing him roam loose like this, but I swear to you, in sight of the Old Gods and the new, he will never harm you, and neither will I,” Robb said sincerely. She looked between the beast’s yellow eyes, and Robb’s ocean blues. There was something about his eyes that made her relax, a kindness, a confidence, a surety.

Grey Wind moved away from Robb and closer to her. The wolf was still staring at her with those yellow eyes. She knew something had been watching her in here, and seeing those eyes confirmed her suspicions. _I was following Robb, and Grey Wind was following me._

The direwolf was now just inches in front of her. She looked back towards Robb, and his eyes gave her the confidence to reach out and touch the animal’s fur. The fur was soft between her fingers, softer than the finest fabric from Myr. “He’s so soft,” she said aloud.  Robb moved up close to her and began petting Grey Wind on the back while she pet his head. Grey Wind then began licking her hand as she pet him.

Robb smiled and nodded his head to her. “He likes your scent.”

“What about you, do you like my scent? My lord?” Margaery said with a coy smile.

Robb’s face twisted into a half-charmed grin. “I could get used to it.”  She let out a small giggle at his answer.

Margaery subtlety moved her hand and put it on top of Robb’s, the same one that rested on Grey Wind’s back. “You still didn’t tell me what the Kingslayer said to you,” Margaery said softly.

Robb looked down at their touching hands for a moment before speaking. “Dance with me, and I’ll tell you.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “Here?”

He smiled and nodded his head down at her. “Well, I would ask we go back to the Great Hall, but seeing as how you’ve ruined your dress… What would the other lords and ladies think? Scandalous,” Robb said smoothly with a sly smile.

Margaery let another genuine laugh escape her throat and accepted his offer. “Very well, my lord.” 

He took her by the hand and led them both back beneath the heart tree. He wasn’t shy, she’d give him that. Most of the men she’d spent time with in the past would have clammy hands, or would stumble over their words unable to speak to her properly out of nervousness. It was nice to finally be around a man other than her brothers who was comfortable in his own skin.

He wrapped his hands around her waist and she did the same around his neck. His arms were strong, and his body was warm and firm all over. He smelled of the woods, like leaves, trees, and grass. Everything about him screamed prince in the North, and she had to admit, she kind of liked it. Grey Wind lied down in front of them as if he were on guard duty. They started to sway slowly to the quiet sounds of the Godswood.

 “You still didn’t tell me,” She said breaking the silence raising her face to looked up at him. “I thought you Starks honored your word.” Margaery wanted to see if he would open up to her, or would he continue to deflect her.

He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling against hers. “He talked about my uncle and grandfather, described their deaths.” She watched his eyes catch a blue fire as if recalling the story back to his mind, and she felt him start to tense up in her arms. “You didn’t know?” She asked softly.

He looked down at her and he relaxed slightly. “No, my father never talked about it. I only ever knew that they died, not how…”

She suddenly understood why he had acted out. Hearing such a story like that for the first time would be hard enough, but Jaime seemed to be taunting him with it. _Why would Jaime Lannister do that? Why would he want to intentionally rile up the heir to the North?_  Her grandmother had told her that story once during her lessons. It was one of the key events that triggered Robert’s Rebellion. It was a tragedy and a horrid tale of cruelty. No matter which side her family fought on, it was still a sad story. She leaned up and kissed him gently on the cheek. “I understand; you don’t need to say anymore.” She then rested her head against his chest again and closed her eyes.

They then continued swaying and listening to the sounds of the Godswood. She didn’t really know for how long, nor did she really care, she felt…comfortable. The crickets were singing in the night, and the owl hooted again in the darkness, but she was no longer scared. If someone had told her yesterday, or even this morning, that she would be in the dark woods in the middle of the night, standing next to a direwolf, with a boy she barely knew and feel safe. She would laugh and call that person a fool. But here she was, and she didn’t want to leave.

“I’ll be rooting for you tomorrow,” she said to him softly.

He looked down at her curiously. “You know I might be going up against your brother at some point, right, my lady?”

“He shouldn’t be the one to win all the tournaments, my lord,” She said coyly to him. Robb laughed again, the sound was deep and resonating within her ears. He then looked up at the moon and gauged where it was in the sky. “I think I’ve kept you long enough, my lady. It’s starting to get late. Your father will probably be looking for you, as will mine…” Robb said reluctantly. She didn’t know if he was either more reluctant to leave her company, or answer to his father. It was most likely the latter, and she didn’t know why that saddened her a little bit?

“I suppose so…” Margaery said a bit reluctantly as well. He let go of her waist and she started to feel cold again. She suddenly missed having the heat of his arms around her.

“You know, if you had asked me to dance sooner, you may have avoided what happened entirely.”

Robb chortled softly under his breath. “Your right. There’s probably a lesson to learn in that somewhere.”

“Stick with me, Stark. I’ll make sure you survive the capital.”

“With my current track record, I’ll most likely need all the help I can get.” He then held out his arm for her to take. “May I walk you back to your family’s quarters, my lady?”

She smiled and accepted his offer looping her arm through his. “Of course, my lord.”

“You can just call me, Robb. If it pleases you, my lady.”

She smiled a silent victory. He was starting to like her, but if she was being completely honest with herself. She was starting to like him as well. “In that case, it’s just Margaery to you, Robb. And thank you for the dance.” They then both quietly made their way out of the Godswood, arm-in-arm.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> Cheers


	12. Twelve

Eddard sat in his solar in the dark of night. Sleep was not something that came easily to him any longer, not that it ever did. The candles burned bright on his desk, and he stared solemnly at the flames. It couldn’t be true. _Dragons? It’s preposterous._ Varys’s little birds whispered, Daenerys Targaryen had given birth to three baby dragons in a funeral pyre. The reports indicate that the girl now resides in the port city of Qarth. This news made him uneasy in how Robert will react. He said he would not pursue the girl any longer that night in Castle Cerwyn, but the threat of dragons, even if unfounded, might send him into another rage.

He let out another deep breath and rubbed his eyes, the candlelight flickering slightly from the air leaving his mouth. He looked down at the old dusty book again. This was not something he wanted to hang over his head. Winter was coming, they needed to focus on gathering the last of the harvest and paying off this outstanding debt, not worrying about going to war with a little girl on the other side of the world. And he was still no closer to figuring out what Jon Arryn had found in these pages, and why he had died for it.

A sudden knock at his chamber door brought him out of his thoughts. _If it’s Varys again, I might kill him._ “Who is it?” Ned said loud enough to be heard through the thick oak.

“It’s me, father,” Ned recognized Robb’s voice immediately.

Ned then took on a different demeanor, one of hard ice. Robb’s actions these past couple of days have made things increasingly difficult for him. The boy’s actions proved he was still immature. But what he heard happened in the Great Hall tonight made Ned worry even more. He knew Jaime Lannister was good at goading people into a fight. Ned had wanted to punch that grin off his face more than once. If Jaime had intentionally goaded his son into hitting him, it meant that the Lannister’s knew he was at least attempting to move against them. Which meant he was running out of time to figure out this puzzle of pages on his desk.

“Come in,” Ned said coldly.

The door opened and Robb slowly made his way inside. He stopped and stood before his desk and put his hands behind his back and looked straight ahead towards him. Robb seemed to know he messed up and was already preparing himself for what was to come.

“I see you’ve finally made it back to the Tower, “Ned said to him. Robb kept his head down and swallowed a lump in his throat and silently nodded his head.

Ned leaned forward on his desk and rested his elbows on the table. “You made quite a commotion tonight in the Great Hall, so I hear. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Robb’s faced changed from no emotion to a mixture of regret and fear. “No, father. There is no excuse for my actions. I take full responsibility for what happened. I shouldn’t have let my emotions get the better of me.”

Ned eyed his son carefully. He could see a flickering of anger in his eyes behind the regret. Whatever the Kingslayer had said to him, Robb was clearly still bothered by it.

“Whatever it was the Kingslayer said to you, I am certain he deserved what he got. But, a display like that in front of the entire court was stupid, Robb. And it will never happen again. I meant what I said before. We are wading through dangerous waters here in the capital. And the more you lash out when someone says something that you disagree with, or riles you up to get you angry, the bigger a target you make us.”

Robb nodded his head in obedience, but remained silent. Ned sighed and sat back in his chair. “I thought we had already gone over this last night. I expect better judgement from you.”

Robb picked his head up and nodded his head again. “I know, father. I will be better, I swear it.” Robb said firmly.

Ned stared at him for a long moment. “Words are wind until put into action. I will expect better of you, and I hope this is the last time we have a conversation like this. Now go, get some rest. You will need it for tomorrow.”

Robb ears perked up and he looked at him with a surprised expression. Ned wanted nothing more than to forbid Robb from participating in the Tournament. But the truth was, if he did that, it would only reinforce in his mind that he believed Robb to still be a child, and thus didn’t believe in him. If Robb really wanted to prove he was smarter than his actions portrayed, he would have to do that all by himself.

“The King sent you something, it’s waiting for you in your room. A wedding present. He wanted you to have it before the tournament. Be sure to thank him. You owe him more than you know…” Ned said to him.

“Yes, father, and thank you.” Robb said, slightly nervously and bowed his head to him in respect before he turned to walk out the door. Ned put his head back down into his book after Robb began to make his exit, but his son stopped just as he was about to open the door.

“I know this doesn’t change anything, but, just so you know, you won’t have to lie to mother in that letter,” Robb said before bowing and smiling meekly at him one last time before leaving the room.

Ned paused for a moment trying to recall what he meant by that. When the memory came to his mind he smiled slightly. _There may be hope for you yet._

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was a beautiful day for the start of the Tournament. The sky bright and blue with not a single cloud in sight. The weather was warm with a gentle coastal breeze. Beyond the city walls, hundreds of pavilions had been raised beside the river and the common folk came out by the thousands to watch the games. House Tyrell had joined them on the journey through the city to the Tourney grounds. Sansa rode in a carriage covered in green and silver silks curtains. Lady Margaery sat with her along with her mother, and grandmother.

They rode through the King’s Gate and she could already hear the sound of the crowd gathering in full force. Sansa was dressed beautifully for the occasion, an emerald green gown to help bring out her auburn hair. Sansa hoped Joffrey would see her in it and smile at her. While Sansa couldn’t be more excited about seeing all the knights in their armor, and the banners flapping in the wind.  She couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. The events from the last Tourney she attended still occupied her mind, especially what Ser Gregor Clegane, the mountain, had done. The man had killed Ser Hugh with a lance through the neck, and then almost killed Ser Loras because of losing. The thought of Robb possibly having to go up against him made her more anxious this time around. She had wanted to see Robb one last time before they left. But he left the Tower early this morning with Theon, Jory, and Harwin to officially sign in to their respective events. She prayed to the mother everything would turn out good.

“Your sister doesn’t like carriages; I take it?” Margaery asked, directing her attention out through the green laced curtains to Arya. Arya chose to ride a horse instead of riding the carriage. She currently rode next to Bran and behind Father, Lord Tyrell, and Ser Garlan, who flanked the carriage on their left. Arya wore a simple plain blue dress that was starting to wrinkle against her saddle. Arya’s appearance was a little embarrassing, Sansa could only huff in annoyance at her. “Sometimes I wonder if we are even true sisters. All she cares about are her stupid dancing lessons,” Sansa said.

Margaery eyed Arya for a second longer before turning to regard Sansa. “I think she looks cute.”

_She is always so kind._ Sansa thought to herself. “You are too kind, lady Margaery. My sister is not a proper Lady.

Margaery smiled before turning to her grandmother for a moment and then back at her. “Are any of us truly?” Margaery asked with a mischievous smile.

Sansa gave her a look of confusion. “What do you mean?”

Margaery giggled and gave her a little hug. “Nothing, sweet sister. I only mean all of us are to be sisters soon. We should accept each other no matter what.”

Sansa looked out the window again. “I suppose your right.” Sansa said reluctantly. _Why couldn’t Arya just be more like Margaery._

“Where is lady Leonette? Did she not want to attend the games?” Sansa asked.

“She was feeling a bit tired this morning. Her pregnancy has her a bit tired as of late. Garlan didn’t want her exhorting herself too much,” lady Alerie said.

“It won’t be too much longer before the girl gives birth. I’d give it another week or two. I’d expect she’ll go into labor around the same time Margaery here marries your brother, dear girl,” Olenna said.

They arrived at the tourney grounds a short time later. The grand stands where all the lords and ladies sat were truly a sight to behold. It was large enough to seat the entire court, and the benches were currently filled to brim with occupants. The Stag of Baratheon sigil and Lion of Lannister had been carved into the many beams that held up the structure. Sansa recognized many of the people in the stands as well. Lord Petyr Baelish, the King’s master of coin, sat with Tyrion Lannister, they both looked at her and smiled as they walked up the stands.

They took their seats in the front row, only a few seats away from where King Robert and the Royal family sat. Sansa looked and could see her prince seated with his siblings and the King and Queen. Joffrey looked at her and gave her a handsome smile that made her heart soar.

Butterbumps, the court fool of House Tyrell was performing a juggling act for the crowd as Sansa took her seat between Margaery and Ser Garlan Tyrell while Lord Mace Tyrell sat between Ser Garlan and her own father.

The first happening of the day was Ser Loras Tyrell’s anointment to the Kingsguard. He came out in an armor as white as snow, his long flowing brown locks blew back in the breeze as he approached the King. Everyone watched as the knight of flowers kneeled before King Robert and began swearing his sacred oaths of fealty. When he was done, Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard clasped the white cloak to his back.

Ser Loras Tyrell then stood, the newest member of King Robert’s Kingsguard. He smiled brightly at the crowd who applauded with loud cheers. Lord Mace Tyrell and the other members of House Tyrell clapped in pride at him, and she did so too.

The first event of the Tournament to take place was the archery competition. There were many participants for the archery, the crowd clapped and cheered for those who won and advanced further in the lists, everyone, except for Theon Greyjoy. When Theon first took the stage, the crowd grew silent with only some slight rumblings throughout. Sansa heard some giggles from some of the ladies in the crowd, but the majority gave grumblings of disapproval. Many seemed to still be spiteful towards him for the Greyjoy Rebellion.

 Although there was one person in the audience cheering for him. “Go Theon!!” Bran yelled out across the silent crowd. Bran was on his feet from his place next to father and was clapping and cheering him on, alone. Theon looked up at her brother and smiled at him before turning to his targets. In quiet concession, Theon went on to hit one bullseye after another. From far and short he nailed every target until he was the only one left and named winner. It was only when he was finally named winner, did Theon Greyjoy receive a round of applause from the entire crowd.

“He is very good with a bow,” Margaery said approvingly to her.

“Maybe all of that boasting he does isn’t always unfounded,” Sansa said back to her.

They both giggled a little when the trumpets then sounded the beginning of the joust. The first tilt to take place was Ser Loras against Ser Boros Blunt, a battle of the Kingsguard. Their white cloaks and armor shined like moonstones against the sunlight. “Loras! Highgarden!” Margaery yelled excitedly beside her. Sansa clapped and cheered along for Ser Loras as well, and the crowd roared in applause when the Knight of Flowers unhorsed the chubby Kingsguard, Ser Boros. The next tilts went by in a flash.

Lord Jason Mallister, in indigo and silver with wings of an eagle on his helm defeated Thoros of Myr after five broken lances. And a dozen hedge knights took the field before Ser Gregor Clegane the Mountain came out, thundering past them like a hurricane. She thanked the gods he wasn’t going up against Robb. He unhorsed both of Lord Paxtor Redwyns sons, Ser Hobbar, and Ser Horas. Sansa let out a sigh of relief when they both were able to get back up after being unhorsed.

Then Ser Jaime Lannister took the field. Sansa was still unsure of what happened last night. She couldn’t believe her eyes at what she had bear witness to. The sight of Robb punching Ser Jaime was unbelievable, and she wasn’t sure why he would do such a thing. The Kingslayer rode brilliantly however. His golden armor and white cloak of the Kingsguard shined like no other against the sunlight. His lion’s head helm masked the mark that Robb had left him the night before, and if it bothered him, Jaime Lannister didn’t show it. He unhorsed Ander Royce, Darryn Hornwood, and Lucas Blackwood all in a single pass, and soundly defeated a few freeriders. Jaime Lannister looked more unstoppable than any other rider in the lists. He was both elegant and powerful at the same time.

One after the other, riders took the field Sansa did not know. Knights from Dorne, unsung freeriders and newly made squires, younger sons and heirs from lesser houses. Although one of those had caught Sansa’s eye, Harrold Hardyng. A young handsome ward of Lady Anya Waynwood of Ironoaks in the Vale. He took off his helm after his victory, revealing a strong jawed handsome face, with blonde hair and blue eyes. The girls in the crowd swooned along with Sansa at the sight of him.

The next rider after him had the complete opposite effect on her. Sandor Clegane, the Hound, was just as ferocious as his older brother. His snarling dog’s head helm masked his half-burned face from the world, but it didn’t make him any less frightening. He unhorsed Alyn Ambrose from the Reach, and trounced Merryn Trant of the Kingsguard swiftly and soundly. The Hound also defeated uncle Edmure splintering his lance on the heir to Riverrun’s chest plate, making him crumble to the ground unceremoniously. When the Hound rode past them after his victories, Sansa could have sworn he was looking right at her and sneering at her with scary eyes. Thumper

After the Hounds first victory, Robb made his way out onto the track, although she couldn’t believe what he was wearing. Robb was dressed in a brand new set of silver plated armor. His chest held a blazon of the direwolf sigil of House Stark, and he wore a matching silver direwolf helmet. The blues of his eyes could be seen through the helm’s eye sockets, making him look fierce. _That wasn’t the armor he came down with._ Sansa could hear Bran over everyone else in the crowd cheering him on as he made his way onto the track. Robb rode past them but paused when Margaery stood to her feet when he was making his way by. Margaery waved to Robb gesturing him over to her, she then leaned over the stands and tied a teal silk cloth around his arm giving him her favor.

Robb rode just as well as anyone else today.  His first bout was against “Black” Walder Frey from the riverlands. Robb hit him square in the armor knocking him clean off his horse, while Frey’s horse itself kept running until the end of the track without it’s rider. His second bout was much closer and extremely nerve racking. He faced against Ser Mandon Moore of the Kingsguard. The silver and white armored men shattered half a dozen lances against the other until Robb was finally able to unhorse him. Sansa and Margaery clapped and yelled excitedly together at his victories along with the crowd.

There was a tense moment when Robb went up against Renly Baratheon, the king’s youngest brother and Lord of Storm’s End. When the young Stormlord fell to the ground, a loud crunch could be heard. Renly was very handsome and gallant, and was well loved by the people. Luckily, the crunching sound was only part of his antlered helm breaking off. The crowd sighed in relief when the young Baratheon lord was able to stand back to his feet.

However, it was his last match of the day that Sansa would remember forever. Robb faced off against the Hound in the later rounds of the day. One after the other Robb broke his lance off on the Hound, and the Hound on him. Margaery could probably tell how tense she was and grabbed her hand after every pass. On the sixth pass the Hound hit Robb so hard his body bent all the way back on his horse, but he was just able to hold onto the reins of his horse and stay afloat. On the Seventh pass was when it finally ended. Robb came up on the Hound with a quick and vicious strike sending the Clegane tumbling to the dirt. Sansa watched in awe as her brother defeated the man who causes her so much anxiety. She stood to her feet quickly with everyone else in their row clapping for him. “Your brother is very skilled, Sansa,” Margaery said happily as she clapped.

“Yes, he is,” Sansa said proudly back to her.

The jousting went on all day and into the dusk. The hooves of the warhorses turned the once fresh green grass to overturned and torn up dirt. The King called it a day once the evening sun was turning the land red. The last three matches would be held the next day, before the melee, and only four riders remained. Of those riders were Ser Loras Tyrell, Ser Gregor Clegane, Ser Jaime Lannister, and Robb Stark. Sansa couldn’t be prouder that Robb had made it as far as he did, but dreaded what was to come tomorrow. From the way the tournament brackets were arranged, Robb’s next opponent was Ser Gregor Celegane, The Mountain. The thought of seeing her brother go against him was almost too much for her to bear. But he had beaten his brother, so maybe, just maybe.

The commoners all went back to the city talking about the day’s events, and the melee and final jousts to come. The court then moved along the riverside to begin the feast. The smell of burning aurochs, grilled chicken, roasted veal and venison wafted through the air. All of the excitement of the day had made her hungry, and made her stomach growl in anticipation.

The Starks and Tyrells sat at a place of high honor on a raised dais table with the Royal Family.  Although both Lady Olenna and Lady Alerie went back to the Red-Keep. Sansa got to sit with her beloved Joffrey for the evening feast just as last night. He wore a deep crimson doublet with golden lion head buttons. On his head he wore a slim coronet of gold and rubies. Joffrey was feeding her favorite lemons cakes while the table talked around them. Joffrey whispered compliments and shared court gossips into her ear all night long as they ate. The feeling of his warm breath against her ear made her heart sing with delight. Oh how she would miss him so when he left for Casterly Rock.

“Your son rode well today, Lord Stark. You must be proud of how far he’s made it,” Mace Tyrell said respectfully with a mouthful of wine and chicken.

“As did yours, Lord Tyrell,” Father answered slowly. Father had been far less enthusiastic about today’s events then Lord Mace Tyrell. Whenever Ser Loras won a bout, Mace Tyrell was on his feet whistling and clapping proudly. Whereas when Robb won, father simply sat and silently clapped along with everyone else.

“I cannot believe you allowed that boy to take part in the joust today. How dare he lay a hand on my blood,” Queen Cersei said with a scowl and venom in her voice. Queen Cersei still seemed to be mad about what happened last night. Sansa just sat quietly praying nothing would come of it. She knew first-hand what happened when the Queen got angry.

“Oh, quiet woman. It was a simple row, nothing more. That’s what real men do, get into rows. Isn’t that right, Kingslayer?” King Robert said turning his head to regard Ser Jaime. Jaime stood to the Queen’s right like a golden statue. His lion’s head helm was now removed, and his nose was red and a little misshapen from Robb’s punch the night before.

“Of course, your grace,” Ser Jaime said smugly. If Jaime was bothered at all by what happened last night, he certainly didn’t show it. He simply stood vigilant like a regal and proud lion. Queen Cersei grumbled under her breath and took another sip of wine before turning to Lord Tyrell.

“And where is Ser Loras. His first day as a member of the Kingsguard and he’s already shrinking on his duty. A Kingsguard’s place should be beside the King, and yet I haven’t seen him all night,” the Queen stated. Sansa was a little curious as to where Ser Loras was as well. Neither he or Robb were feasting with them at the table, and she hadn’t seen either of them since the joust. She wanted to see them and congratulate them both on making it to the semi-finals.

“I believe he is with Lord Renly, your grace,” Lord Tyrell said through another mouthful of golden wine.

“Of course he is,” Cersei said irritably under her breath. “Perhaps someone should remind him he serves the King, not the King’s brother,” Cersei said looking scornfully at her husband. Sansa caught Margaery and Ser Garlan both look at each other uneasily at the Queen’s sour behavior.

“Let them be, Cersei. Their friends enjoying the evening. Let them have this night,” King Robert said.

“I only wish to properly thank him for his service to the crown, my sweet Robert,” Cersei said before leaning in closer to Jaime and gently touched his arm. “Ser Jaime, could you go look for your newest sworn brother for me? I wish to congratulate him, and thank him for his service to the crown.” The Queen said with grace to her brother.

“I can go look for him if you wish, your grace,” Ser Garlan said standing to his feet before Jaime could answer.

“Now there’s a good lad,” Cersei said with a grin reaching for a goblet of wine on the table.

“I’ll come with you, dear brother,” Margaery said standing as well.

Ser Garlan and lady Margaery both bowed in respect to the King and Queen before departing. As Margaery was walking away, Sansa caught Joffrey was watching her go, his eyes never leaving the exposed skin on her back and the sway of her hips as she walked away. His eyes slightly glazed over and he had a somewhat carnal grin on his face. Sansa could feel a sharp shooting of jealousy ring out within her. Joffrey then turned back to her and the lust in his eyes quickly disappeared. Joffrey then smiled a handsome smile at her and leaned in close to her ear again. “You are so lovely, my lady,” Joffrey whispered to her again softly. He then drank the last of his golden arbor wine and stood to his feet. “Would you honor me with a stroll around the riverside, my lady?” Joffrey said holding out his arm to her.

Sansa’s eyes lit up. She turned to her father pleading that he would let her to go, but he gave her a scowl clearly uncomfortable with the idea. Joffrey turned to father and regarded him respectfully. “I’ll have her back before you know it, Lord Stark.” Joffrey said, like the noble prince that he was. 

Father looked between Joffrey and Sansa for a long moment before finally relenting. “Be careful,” Joffrey held out his arm for her to take and she nearly leapt into his arms. “Don’t worry, my lady. My dog here will keep us both from harm,” Joffrey said. Like a large shadow, she felt the presence of Sandor Clegane looming over them. Sandor Clegane had ridden well until he was matched up against her brother. Sansa could still remember the shock from the crowd when Robb had unhorsed The Hound in the joust. Normally Sansa would feel afraid with the Hound watching her. He always had a leer in his eyes when he looked at her, and his half burned face was frightening. But she wasn’t afraid of anything when Joffrey was holding her so close, it felt like she was walking on the clouds.

 

* * *

 

“Isn’t it a thing of beauty?” Theon said holding a golden dragon into the moonlight. Theon had done what he said he would do, he won the archery competition. They stood together by the edge of the riverside. The Blackwater Rush was calm and serene this night, with a white light glow of shimmering moonlight reflecting off its surface.

The Tournament was everything Robb had expected it to be, a pure adrenaline rush. The roar of the crowd, the shattering of the wood against his armor and shield, and the feeling of defeating his opponent was something that could not be replicated in the training yard. That adrenaline was unlike anything he’s ever experienced, and he couldn’t get enough of it.

“I told you I would win it,” Theon said proudly.

“That you did, you did well, Theon,” Theon smiled brightly at him and patted him on the chest. “So did you, the semi-finals. You kicked some major arse out there today, Stark. Just two more victories and you’ll win it.”

Robb was surprised of how far he’s advanced in the lists. It wasn’t easy, the Hound almost got him on that last pass, but he just was able to hold on to the reins of his horse. The new set of armor he received from King Robert was very sturdy, and allowed him to take more punishment than his old armor would have. He could barely believe his eyes when he saw it on his armor stand in his chambers. The King’s wedding gift, a set of shining silver armor and matching direwolf helm was a truly remarkable piece of work. The King left him a letter with the armor that read: “ _Show those fools what real warriors can do.”_ And today he did just that. Although the armor was beautiful and strong, it was also hot and heavy and made him sweat through his cloths underneath. With the sun beating down all day, he was thankful to finally be able to take it off, and change back into his lighter brown leathers.

They both then turned their heads when they heard a chorus of giggling. A few ladies whispered to each other as they passed them by. It really was remarkable how nice everyone was being to them.  Robb had met so many random people tonight complimenting him on his performance in the joust, it was nice to finally catch some respite from all of the attention.

Theon raised his eyebrows suggestively at the girls, and whistled at them as they made their way by. _At least Theon likes the attention._ Theon then turned back to him with a wide grin on his face. “I’m still kicking myself for missing last night. I can’t believe you clocked Jaime Lannister in face. I hear you broke his nose,” Theon said laughing hardily. Robb didn’t find it as funny as Theon did. He was still angry with himself for allowing the Kingslayer to get in his head last night like he did. Robb eyed Theon curiously. He didn’t recall seeing Theon during last night’s feast at all. “And where were you? Where did you run off to during last night’s feast?”

Theon grinned at him mischievously. “I was…preoccupied. There was this serving girl eyeing me up with these great big…”  

“You know what? I don’t want to know,” Robb said cutting him off.

Theon only laughed in return. “Fine, I’ll just say, she was a squirter. “

Robb shook his head at him and closed his eyes with a cringe. _Too much information._ “So, let me guess, headed to a brothel tonight?” Robb asked. Theon did say something about bedding every girl in King’s Landing on the way down.

Theon nodded his head and eyed the city in the distance. “They say Littlefinger’s brothel has this girl there, Sapphire. She supposed to be… really good,” Theon said. “I’m headed there with your uncle Edmure. He seemed interested in trying to escape from that Bracken girl.”

Robb had spotted Edmure earlier in the evening drinking with Marq Piper. _Edmure’s still avoiding marriage then._ “What about you, Stark. Your more than welcome to come with us when we go. The night is still young! Let’s celebrate!” Theon said patting him on the back encouragingly.

“No, that’s quite alright. You know how I feel about those places,” Robb said.

Theon smiled that grin again and moved in close to him. “C’mon, Stark. Your mother’s not here. I’m not kidding, I’m trying to fuck tonight. Nothing’s better than warm wet pussy after a victory.”

Robb put his hand on Theon’s chest and pushed him off of him. “No, Theon. I’m on thin enough ice with my father. I’m not going to do anything else to cause him more grief. He has enough to deal with. I don’t want to cause him any more problems. Besides, I don’t think lady Margaery would like that too much.”

Theon gave an amused smile and looked at him curiously. “Lady Margaery? You’re not going soft on me are you, Stark? Tell me you didn’t fall in love with her with a single look?”

Robb rolled his eyes at him. “No, but I’m still not risking getting caught in a brothel in King’s Landing. Word has a way of getting around here in this city, or so I’m told.”

Theon shrugged his shoulders and put his full coin pouch in his pocket. “Whatever you say, Stark. I don’t know about you, but I’m going to get my cock wet tonight. Why don’t you go and look for your lady love? Maybe she’ll let you poke her tonight. Because after your match with the Mountain, you may not ever get the chance,” Theon said with a grin. _Arse._  Theon then turned and started walking back towards the feast, and disappearing amongst the various knights, lords, ladies, and servants alongside the river. Robb then turned back towards the water. The slow moving river and shining moonlight was a nice contrast to the chaos happening behind him.

Part of him just wanted to stand here all night and watch the water, and be away from everything and everyone. He knew as soon as he went back into the feast, some random lord he never met before would congratulate him on his performance today, and sing his praises like a bird. The attention was nice at first, but now it was just starting to get annoying. But, he did want to find King Robert and thank him for the wedding gift. The only reason he hasn’t yet was because he was nervous about seeing the Queen. Queen Cersei would be with the King, and he doubted she would have any kind words to say to him. But thanking the King was the right thing to do.

Finding the King wouldn’t be too hard, just follow the noise. King Robert would be surrounded by the most people and musicians. Robb made his way through the various people, and he shook hands and greeted Robar Royce, Lucas Blackwood, and Karl Vance as he passed through, all congratulating him on the day’s joust.  He eventually made his way around a burning auroch, the smell of the beef made him lick his lips when he suddenly heard his name being called out from behind him. “Hey, Stark!” He turned around seeing a man in in a golden tunic and long black hair. Robb instantly recognized the King’s youngest brother, Renly Baratheon. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you all night!” Renly said, his long black hair flowing in the night’s wind.

Robb turned to regard the Baratheon lord a bit hesitantly. He pivoted his feet into a defensive stance, preparing himself for another brawl. Robb had defeated Renly in the jousts today, and after last night, he was preparing himself for anything. Renly eyed how he was standing and lifted his hands up slightly showing submissive body language. “Whoa there. You can put your claws away there, Stark. I’m no Lannister,” Renly said with some humor in his voice.

Robb shook his head and laughed, slightly embarrassed by his instinctive nature. “I apologize, lord Renly. I’m just a little jumpy tonight.”

Renly came up close to him and put a friendly arm around his shoulder. “That’s understandable, considering your last twenty-four hours… Come, have a drink with me,” Renly said warmly with a smile.

Robb was a little perplexed by his friendliness. Considering he had unhorsed Renly this afternoon, he didn’t expect him to want to be friends.  “That was handsome armor you had on today. It really brought out your eyes,” Renly said guiding them through the throngs of various people.

Robb gave him an awkward sideways glace. _That’s something Sansa would say._ “Uh...thank you. It was a wedding gift from King Robert.”

“My brother certainly knows his armor,” Renly continued. _He must be drunk._ Robb thought. He had to be, because Renly was leaning on him quite heavily as they walked. And kept complimenting him on his appearance, which was a little weird. It wasn’t long before they came to Renly’s tent. When they pushed past the curtain wall, Robb spotted Ser Loras sitting at the edge of the bed without a shirt on.

Robb thought that was a bit odd, but figured Loras wanted out of wearing his heavy armor all day as well. “Ser Loras,” Robb said respectfully _._ Loras looked at him with slight surprise and quickly stood to his feet, and grabbed a beige tunic off the back of a chair and quickly threw it over his upper body.

“Ah, Stark. Good to see you. You rode well today,” Ser Loras said respectfully and nodded his head to him. That was the thing about these competitions. The more he won, the more respect he earned amongst his peers. They shook hands as Renly came back over with wine handing them both a glass before pouring one for himself.

“As did you, Ser Loras,” Robb said, taking a sip of the offered wine. The golden arbor was sweet to the tongue.

“You know the common folk are calling you the “young wolf” now. That lance thrust of yours… a thing of beauty,” Renly said. 

“Thank you, sorry about today. Hope I didn’t hit you too hard,” Robb said.

Renly waved his hand dismissively and took another sip of wine. “You win some you lose some,” Renly said while slightly shrugging his shoulders. Loras and Renly both then sat down at the edge of the bed together, a little closer than what friends normally do. Robb took the opportunity to sit in the chair opposite them.

“We enjoyed your little event last night. You certainly know how to take over a room,” Renly said giving him a sly smile.

Robb put his head down and rubbed his temple slightly. He was still disappointed with himself. “And there it is,” Renly said with a chuckle and pointed his goblet of wine at him. “There’s that famous Stark scowl. The look of shame the second they do something even slightly dishonorable. Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that to Jaime Lannister? He truly is a pompous shit. I can only imagine what he said to you.”

Robb shifted uncomfortably in his seat and took another sip of his wine. “You don’t want to know.”

Renly let out another soft chuckle. “Well, whatever it was, I’m sure he deserved it.”

“I’m curious, though,” Ser Loras began leaning forward in his seat. “Where do you go after it happened? My sister practically ran out of the hall after you last night, and she didn’t come back to our families’ quarters until much later on. And when she did return, her dress was torn, and her feet were covered in dirt…” Loras said with a questioning face.

Robb laughed for a moment, the image of lady Margaery with those shocked wide eyes in the darkness of the woods was the first thing that came rushing back to the forefront of his mind. “We didn’t do much. We only walked through the Godswood,” Robb said. Loras and Renly both looked at each other and shared a smile. Robb widened his eyes realizing what that must have sounded like.  “Nothing happened! We only talked. I assure you, I would never…”

Loras put his hand up waving him off and gave him an amused smile. “I don’t need to know the details, we’re to be family soon. I only ask because you must have done something she liked, because I saw her rushing into her room grinning like an idiot. I haven’t seen her smile like that in a long time.”

Renly’s face took on a more serious demeanor and he leaned forward on the edge of the bed. “I’m going to speak plainly to you, Robb, no deception, no bollocks. I respect your family too much to do otherwise. The Baratheons and Starks have long been allies. I’d like to keep that tradition intact.”

Robb leaned forward in his seat and regarded him seriously. He silently nodded his head in agreement, urging Renly continue. He may be finally getting some answers to the situation here in the capital.  “It’s the Queen I would be more concerned about if I were you, Stark. I’m sure you’ve noticed all of the Lannister swords in the Red-Keep. She’s surrounded my brother with all of her kinsman. She’s been gobbling up seats of office for House Lannister here for years. Your father is starting to make a dent in her influence, and I think it has her running scared. Robert _listens_ to your father, it’s not the same as it was with Jon Arryn, and she knows it. Which makes things dangerous for you and your family.”

Robb looked at him slightly perplexed. “What are you saying? That Queen Cersei is plotting against my father? Why would she do that?”

Renly eyed him carefully and took another sip of wine. “Who knows? The woman is a vixen. You think what happened last night between you and the Kingslayer was an accident? If I’ve learned anything from my time here in the capital, it’s that nothing here happens by accident,” Renly told him.

Robb sat back in his chair and rested his elbow on the armrest. _So it was more than taxes._ Father was trying to diminish the Queen’s influence here by bringing in the Tyrells, but why? Why would the Queen even care? This only made him ask more questions. And even more guilty for acting out against Lord Tyrell at dinner the other night.

“But what can Queen Cersei really do to Lord Stark? Everyone knows he’s the King’s best friend. He is the Hand of the King, and the second most powerful man in the Kingdoms,” Loras said.

“So was Jon Arryn. Look how that turned out,” Renly said.

Robb paused for a moment when Renly said that. That’s the second time that Jon Arryn’s death was spoken about to him like that.

“Jon Arryn was an old man. He died a natural death,” Loras spoke.

“Did he?” Renly asked.

It was then the curtain entrance of the tent suddenly flew open. For the second night in a row, Robb was surprised by the sudden appearance of lady Margaery. She walked into Renly’s tent, but what was curious was that she was covering her eyes. “Loras, are you in here?” She said with her eyes still closed.

“It’s alright, sister, you can open your eyes,” Loras said with a half-smile.

Margaery opened her eyes and looked between all of them with a surprised expression. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were here too…” Her eyes lingering on Robb as Ser Garlan walked in behind her.

“Loras, the Queen is looking for you, and she’s not very happy, so be prepared,” Garlan said.

Robb, Renly, and Loras all eyed each other for a long moment before Loras finally stood to his feet. “Speak of the devil,” Loras said under his breath.

“I’ll come with you. She shouldn’t treat as tartly with me there,” Renly said standing with Loras.

Robb stood as well and nodded to both of them. “Ser Loras, good luck tomorrow,” Robb said extending his hand for him to shake.

Ser Loras gave him a sideways smile and shook his hand. “You as well, Stark,” Loras said. Robb then shook Renly’s hand as well and thanked him for the information. “Remember what I said, Robb. And be careful who you trust here,” Renly said before leaving. Renly shared quick courtesies with Margaery and Garlan before leaving the tent with Loras.

Ser Garlan stood beside his sister and folded his arms across his chest eyeing Robb suspiciously. Ser Garlan was much bigger than his younger brother. Through his teal colored tunic and fierce dark beard, Robb could see the framework of a thick neck, strong arms and a firm chest. Robb did not want to get on this man’s bad side.

“Hello again, Robb,” Margaery said sweetly with smile.

“Lady Margaery, Ser Garlan, it’s good to see you again,” Robb said kindly, bowing his head to lady Margaery and holding out his hand for Garlan to shake.

“Stark,” Garlan said firmly. Garlan squeezed his hand just as hard as the night before, and Robb tried his hardest not to show any discomfort. Margaery then cleared her throat and looked up at her older brother gesturing with her eyes for him to leave. “Shouldn’t you go and check on your lady wife, brother? I know she must be missing you at this late hour of the night,” Margaery said kindly looking up at her brother.

Garlan eyed her for a moment and then looked back at Robb. It was clear Garlan was uncomfortable leaving her alone with him. Margaery then placed a gentle hand on Garlan’s back. “I’ll be fine, dear brother. I think I’m more than safe with my betrothed,” Margaery said. Garlan looked down at her and reluctantly relented. He then gave Robb one last overprotective look before leaving the tent.

“I’m sorry about that,” Margaery said apologetically after Garlan left.

Robb waved his hand and smiled at her, quickly dismissing it. “It’s quite alright. He’s just being an older brother. One can empathize. I haven’t really given him a good reason to approve of me, considering my last couple of days,” Robb said. Robb instantly thought of Sansa, and how it made his skin crawl every time he saw her with Joffrey. He doubted Ser Garlan had a very high opinion of him right now.

“Well, I still like you,” Margaery said with a smile moving further into the room.

“That’s a relief,” Robb said, laughing softly under his breath. Margaery was wearing another low cut dress with an open back.  Her soft brown curls cascading down her back like a waterfall of smooth butterscotch.  Robb smiled to himself, _she’ll stop wearing those dresses once we go North_. “You look nice,” Robb told her.

Margaery looked down at her gown her cheeks blushing ever so slightly as she spun around in her dress. “Thank you, I thought you looked handsome in your armor today…Uhm.. not that you don’t look handsome now… it’s just that…”

 Robb laughed a little at her. _She’s stumbling over her words, shouldn’t it be the other way around?_ “Maybe it was your favor that let me advance as far as I did,”

Margaery took a step closer to him recovering quickly. “I’d like to believe that a piece of cloth could have that kind of power.”

“Do you want some wine? I don’t think Renly will mind if we borrow some of his,” Robb asked.

“I wouldn’t mind a glass,”

Robb nodded and moved to the side table pouring them both a goblet of the golden arbor.  “But seriously, you rode well today,” Margaery said. He smiled to himself as he poured, he could hear the admiration in her voice. _Everyone likes a winner._ When he turned back around he noticed Margaery now sat at the end of the bed, in the same spot Loras had just been. He took a seat beside her and handed her the glass. “If I had a golden dragon for how many times I’ve heard that this evening, I’d be as rich as a Lannister.”

Margaery was graceful enough to laugh at his jest. “Or a Tyrell,” she said.

“Aye, or a Tyrell,” Robb said with a grin taking a sip of the wine.

“Making the semi-finals is quite the accomplishment. You must be very proud of yourself,” Margaery said.

Robb eyed her and simply shrugged his shoulders. “At least I know all those years of training are good for something at least,” He said dispassionately. He wasn’t really participating for the glory or for the gold of winning, he didn’t really care about that. What he said to his father was the truth. He only wanted to prove to himself that he could contend with the best of the best, and he didn’t win yet. He still had to get past the Mountain. But he wanted Jaime Lannister more than any other rider, and he wouldn’t rest easy until he put him into the dirt.

“You sound pretty indifferent for someone who defeated some of the best riders in the Kingdoms. The Hound, Ser Mandon Moore…”

“Maybe...” Robb said shrugging his shoulders again. He stared ahead at one of the candles burning on the small table directly across from them. He was having trouble concentrating on anything other than what Renly said. His father feared the Queen so much that he was willing to put up with Lord Tyrell. He knew his father wouldn’t normally ally with a man who had those kind of principles, no matter how rich he may be.

“Something wrong?” Margaery asked. Robb quickly shook his head and came back to the present. He turned towards her and smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, my lady. I was just thinking of something Renly said. I didn’t mean to ignore you.”

 “What did Renly say to you?” She asked innocently. She seemed harmless enough, but he still wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about Margaery. Sure she was beautiful, and he enjoyed spending time with her last night in the Godswood, but she was still just a stranger. “It’s nothing, my lady.”

Margaery’s face twisted slightly, as if she were trying to mask a frown. “We are to be man and wife soon. We should be able to talk to each other, no?” she said.

Robb eyed her for a moment. Her large brown orbs were searching his face for an answer. It was true, they were to be married. It wouldn’t be good of him to start out by keeping secrets from her. He wanted to make her feel comfortable around him, not skeptical. “Renly said the Queen is plotting against my father. He thinks my family might be in danger because of it.”

“Oh!?” Margaery said widening her eyes, but she quickly recovered and her eyes glazed over with an almost poisoning look. “And what do you think?” she asked.

Robb leaned forward on the bed and looked ahead at the candle again. “I don’t really know what to think. Things are much different here in King’s Landing than in Winterfell. No one says what they mean, everyone has their own agenda, and no one tells the truth,” Robb said shaking his head with disgust. “I don’t know how my father stands it.”

She smiled at him again, only there seemed to be something else burning in her eyes this time. It was that same primal look from the other night at dinner. But it disappeared as quickly as it appeared and she leaned in a bit closer to him. “That’s good. You’re learning,” Margaery said.

Robb turned to her and eyed her tightly. “Practiced in politics are you?”

Margaery sat up straighter and eyed him intensely through another sip of her wine. “I am the granddaughter of the Queen of Thorns.”

Robb laughed and took another sip of the wine. He could start to feel the slightly numbing sensation start to take over his body. This golden arbor was so sweet it didn’t even taste like it had any alcohol. He didn’t want to drink anymore and have any side effects for the tilts tomorrow. Robb stood and put his wine glass back down on the table. “Perhaps I’d be safer walking through that jungle out there with you then, my lady” Robb said with a smile, extending his arm out for her to take.

Margaery smiled and stood with him, and linked her arm through his. “A most wise decision, my lord.”

They exited Renly’s tent and out into the feast together. Robb noticed many onlookers as they passed. Part of him still wanted to go and thank the King, but Margaery was leading them in the opposite direction. “Come, I want to introduce you to some of my father’s bannermen,” Margaery said sweetly into his ear.

Robb gave her a sideways glance of disbelief. “Cruel and unusual, my lady.”

Margaery giggled at him. “Oh come on, it will be fun!”

“I think you and I have two different definitions of that word,” Robb said with a laugh, but he didn’t put up any sort of real protest. He simply let Margaery guide them both over to where the Reach lords were eating. It wasn’t too long before someone came up to them. The first man to approach them was of a slender frame. He had close cropped brown hair, and a yellow tunic with a brooch of a red marching ant on his collar. _Here we go again._

Robb let Margaery do most of the talking, she was sweet and gentle to everyone with her words, and it was nice to not have to deal with everyone alone. Although, it did sort of feel like he was some kind of prized pet of hers, and she was now trying to show him off to everyone she could.  They met with Arthur Ambrose and his wife Alysanne, and talked of past tournaments in the Reach. Their son Alyn had an unfortunate contest with The Hound in the jousts today, and was soundly defeated. They met and talked with Mathis Rowan and his wife Bethany, and their son Connor Rowan, the Commander of the city watch. They even shared a drink with Randal Tarley of Horn Hill. The man was gruff and indignant at first towards him, but with only a few compliments and choice words, Margaery had him eating out of the palm of her hand. It really was something to see, the way she captivated people’s attentions was almost like an art form.

They continued their stroll of greeting the nobility for a good while until they were alone again. Now they stood together beside the riverbank, looking out over the slow moving body of water. With all of the scents he’s smelled tonight, Robb thought Margaery’s scent was the finest. Her hair smelt like a flower garden after the rain, it was almost intoxicating being so close to her for so long. It was no wonder Grey Wind liked her.

 “You’re going to miss all of this, aren’t you?” Robb stated not really as a question as they both looked out over the water. This was her element, here with all of the nobility of the South. Where she could smile and be the center of conversation. She must be dreading the idea of moving away from all of this. They truly were from two different worlds. All of this pomp and decorum was starting to get on his last nerve, but she seemed to thrive in it.

“Maybe, but I’m looking forward to what the North has in store for me,” Margaery said not turning her eyes away from the water.

She said it with such conviction that it almost made him believe her, but it was her eyes that gave her away. She looked out over the slow moving body of water with a faraway look and a hint of sadness immersed in her eyes. “You don’t have to do that when were alone, you know,” he told her.

She turned to him and looked up at him curiously.  “Do what?” she said with those innocent big brown eyes of hers.

Robb almost laughed at how believable she made it look. “That whole thing you do. Say exactly what people want to hear, and make it sound convincing. I know you can’t be too thrilled with the prospect of having to live in the North.” The look she gave him was as if she just got caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

Robb turned around and looked at the feast behind them and the city of King’s Landing in the background. The roaring fires of cooking aurochs, the many lords and ladies gossiping in their fine clothes, all of the lights of the city’s skyline, and the magnificent view of the Red-Keep on the mountaintop. It was easy to see why she would miss this, and the Reach was probably even more glorious to behold. She was leaving everything she’s ever known.

“And I don’t blame you. I can see now the attraction in all of this. The lights, the glamour, the intrigue, the food, the wine, the girls…”  He said eyeing her at the end with a small grin. “The North is not like this at all. It’s cold, damp, desolate... A far cry from what you’re used to I’m sure. I know this won’t be an easy thing for you…” Robb said told her softly turning back to her with understanding eyes.

Margaery was looking up at him but couldn’t meet his gaze directly. Her eyes were shooting in a thousand different directions except for on his. She seemed to be scrambling for something to say but couldn’t find the words.

“Look, we’re going to be married. And I don’t want to make to make you feel like you always have to be that perfect person around me. I’m not going to get angry at you for speaking your mind. I just wanted to let you know that, I get it. I can see why so many southerners can get so distracted by all of this, and I almost feel sorry for them,” Robb said not turning away from the city in the background.

“You feel sorry for us?” Margaery asked with confusion.

Robb nodded and regarded her again. “The North may be harsh, but its home. Without the cold, a man can’t appreciate the fire in his hearth. Without the rain, a man can’t appreciate the roof over his head. The North may not have all of this, and it may not sound like much to you… But, I think, it’s because we northerners don’t have all of this excess, we learn to cherish what we do have even more. With all of this attraction, decadence, and fluff, it would be easy to lose sight of what’s really important in life.”

“And what’s that?” she asked.

“Family, duty, honor. I don’t know, maybe it’s the Tully in me,” he said pausing for a moment before turning back to look out over the river. “Men’s hearts are weak. If nature isn’t trying to kill us, then our own nature will seek to destroy us.”

There was a long silence between them for a while as they both listened to the contrasting sounds of the water rushing in front of them, and music and chaos happening behind them. This time it was Margaery who broke the silence.

“It’s true, I wasn’t looking forward to moving North. Ever since I first heard the news, I was silently hoping it wouldn’t happen. That my father would change his mind, and I could go back to Highgarden,” she said slowly, almost fearfully gauging his reaction. Robb silently nodded his head in understanding at her at her. It was what he expected, and he was thankful he heard the truth from her. Yet for some reason, it still stung when he heard her actually say it out loud.

She paused for a moment and looked up at him. “But, as a Lady, I reserve the right to change my mind. And family is the most important thing to me too,” She said before moving closer to him. Robb eyed her curiously, his heart started pumping in his chest. He put a gentle hand on her waist and could feel the softness of her skin again. “And as long as you stay close, I believe I can learn to love the North as well,” she said softly. She starting leaning her head in and was glancing between his lips and his eyes. Robb bent his neck down and met her halfway, their lips meeting for the first time in a soft and gentle kiss. The smell of her hair was overwhelming, and the feeling of his lips on hers nearly made him feel like he was floating. She put her hands up around his shoulders, and then got them lost in his hair in an effort to bring his face closer. He took the opportunity to move his hand around the small of her back pulling her flush up against his body.  She slightly moaned against his lips as he opened his mouth more for her deepening the kiss.

“Well isn’t this amusing,” a voice abruptly called out.

Robb and Margaery nearly jumped apart at the sound of the newcomers approaching from behind them. They both were flushed and slightly out of breath when they turned around seeing prince Joffrey and Sansa approaching them. Sansa was looking on bashfully at them, while Joffrey had a sneering smile on his face.

“Well, well, well, the wolf and rose smooching by the riverside. What do you think, Dog? Should we call over the bards? Should we have them sing these two a song?” Joffrey said with a sneering laugh.

It was then Robb noticed a large figure stepping out of the shadows behind his sister. Sandor Clegane, otherwise known as, the Hound, moved up beside Joffrey and looked down at Robb with a frown of irritation. Sandor Clegane wasn’t as big as his brother, Gregor, but he was still a huge and incredibly intimidating figure in black plate armor. And his grisly facial burns made even the smallest of frowns seem like glares of evil. “I think they’ll be able to come up with something special for these two, your grace,” The Hound said.

Margaery was the first one to recover between them. She fixed her posture quickly and curtsied before the prince. “Good evening, your grace. It such a pleasure to see you and lady Sansa again this fine evening. I hope you enjoyed…”

Joffrey completely ignored Margaery and moved right in front of Robb’s face. “Who knew you were this soft, Stark. Kissing by the riverside like a sappy poet. Are you sure you have man parts down there?” Joffrey started before eyeing Robb from head to toe with a disapproving shake of his head. “It’s unbelievable you’ve advanced as far as you did today. I’ve seen my dog bested once or twice by my uncle, but never believed he would go down by the likes of you. How’d you do it? You must have cheated somehow,” Joffrey said with a mean glare.

Robb stood up straighter. Joffrey was only a couple feet in front of him now. The prince’s breath reeked of wine. Robb then noticed Sansa was carrying a canteen that was most likely empty, because Joffrey was clearly drunk. Robb had to be careful here, he didn’t want to get the prince angry, he knew Joffrey could get ornery rather easily. He didn’t want the prince to act out cruelly on him, or worse, on Sansa and Margaery.

“When both men are on horseback, it makes the competitors a bit more on an even playing field, your grace. It’s more about horse riding skill then anything thing else. I don’t believe I would’ve been able to advance as far in the melee. My father says to know your strengths and stick to them, we can’t be good at everything we do,” Robb told him evenly.

Joffrey looked him up and down with a frown. “A coward’s answer. No one cares what your father says. I asked you how you cheated, and you refuse to answer,” Joffrey said taking another threatening step closer to him.

Robb growled and formed a fist in his hands. He could feel another wave of anger start to take over him, but he felt Margaery put a hand on his back, and her touch massaged his temper away. He had to keep himself in check. “I didn’t cheat your grace. Perhaps lady luck was with me, or…” Robb said turning to Margaery who still stood beside him. “Perhaps it was my ladies favor that helped me advance in the lists today.”

Joffrey let out another sneering laugh, and eyed Margaery again only this time his eyes lingered on the plunge of her neckline. Robb could feel a bite of jealousy take root within him the longer Joffrey stared at her. “That’s why you’ll never be a true warrior, Stark” Joffrey said turning back to him. “Caring too much about the soft hearts of women is a weakness.”

“How come you didn’t take part in any of the competitions today, your grace? I would think you’d want to show everyone the great warrior that you are,” Robb told him.

“I would’ve fought, if I thought anyone was worth fighting,” Joffrey said.

“I thought the Queen said you weren’t entering because it would be too dangerous for you, my prince,” Sansa asked clearly confused.

Joffrey then turned around and eyed Sansa with anger and stomped towards her in a rage. “Shut up! No one was talking to you! Men do not discuss their battles with silly little girls! Just shut your mouth and be quiet!” Joffrey stated. Sansa’s eyes widened in fear at the prince and she quickly bowed her head submissively.

“Don’t talk to my sister that way!” Robb snapped angrily with a growl. Robb then tensed up and formed a tight fist in his hands again taking a step closer to Joffrey. But the Hound was there standing in his way before he could reach Joffrey. Robb paused and looked up at the half burned man’s face and then back at Joffrey. It may be two on one, but he’d be damned if he let Joffrey threaten his sister. 

Joffrey turned back around and eyed Robb with a snarling stare. “I’ll talk to your sister anyway I want!” Joffrey yelled before taking out his sword. Joffrey then stomped back towards Robb with his blade in hand. “I am your prince, Stark. And I will be your King one day, and that means I can do whatever I like, and you must obey me!” Margaery sucked in her breath sharply at the sight of the blade, and came rushing up beside Robb.

“Joffrey, stop it!” Sansa screamed from behind the Hound. But the prince moved right up in front of Robb, pointing the tip of his blade in front of his face. Robb gently pushed Margaery away from him, trying to keep her as far away from the blade as possible without moving his eyes away from the steel. He didn’t want her to get caught in the middle.

“Do you like it, Stark?” Joffrey said through another sneer as he brought the blade up to Robb’s cheek. “Hearteater, I’ve named it. Do you know what it could do to you right now? Do you know what I could do to you right now? I could take off your head, here and now, and no one will bat an eye,” Joffrey said pushing the blade harder against his cheek. Robb gritted his teeth when he felt the tip of the blade pierce his skin. He felt a trickle of warm blood start to drip down the side of his face.

“Joffrey, please! Don’t!” Sansa cried out again.

“What are you going to do, Stark? Go ahead, reach for your blade. Just give me a reason,” Joffrey said slicing his sword down his face more.

“As is your right, your Grace. But please, you will break my heart if you kill my love. I beg of you, your grace, let him live,” Margaery said from beside him. Joffrey eyed Margaery for a moment with a scowl and turned back to Sansa still keeping the blade on Robb’s cheek.

“Fine,” Joffrey said bringing his sword down, and putting it back in the scabbard at his hip. “But only because I don’t want to spoil my uncle’s fun. I hope you do beat the Mountain tomorrow, Stark. I’m looking forward to watching my uncle Jaime plant you into the mud where you belong,” Joffrey stated before turning his gaze onto Margaery. “That is of course after he defeats your fairy brother,” Joffrey said to Margaery. He then took another threatening step closer to her. “I wonder if the rumors about him and Renly are true? I hope so, because once I’m king, I will make that kind of perversion punishable by death. I’d like to know how many petals I’d have to peel back before he screams,” Joffrey said to her with an arrogant laugh.

Margaery widened her eyes in fear at the prince, before he turned around and walked back towards Sansa and looping his arm through hers a bit roughly. “Come, dog,” Joffrey stated. Sansa looked back at him with fear on her face. It took every ounce of strength within him not to go over and pummel prince Joffrey off of her.

Robb then turned towards Margaery and could still see her eyes laced with fear. He put a gentle hand on her face to try and calm her. “Are you alright?” he asked softly.

“Am I alright?” Margaery asked with disbelief. “I should be the one asking you that,” Margaery told him looking up at him with a scared expression. She then reached her hand up and wiped the blood that was running down his cheek with a green cloth. He turned back to the feast watching Joffrey, Sansa, and the Hound disappear into the night. “It’s going to be a sad day for the Seven Kingdoms when he’s crowned King,” Robb told her.

“I can’t help but agree,” Margaery said still dabbing his bloodied face with the cloth. “You did a good job controlling your emotions. If that were me in Sansa’s shoes, and Loras in yours. I would have one less brother. I know how hard that must have been for you.”

“You have no idea,” Robb said still watching them go. His stomach was doing somersaults watching them disappear. Joffrey couldn’t leave for Casterly Rock soon enough. Hopefully his grandfather, Lord Tywin Lannister, will be able to straighten him out, because clearly King Robert and Cersei couldn’t. He then turned back to Margaery with a questioning look. “What did he mean about Loras and Renly?” Robb asked. For some reason he felt like he was missing something important about that.

Margaery looked up at him and gave him another scared look. He could tell she was very uncomfortable with the question and he felt foolish for asking her about so quickly. “It’s alright, it doesn’t matter. You don’t need to tell me if it makes you feel uncomfortable,” Robb told her.

Margaery’s face changed from fear to relief in seconds. She then moved closer to him and wrapped her arms around him hugging him close to her. She put her chin on his chest and looked up at him with a smile. “You know; I think I’m going to enjoy being married to you.”

Robb smiled down at her and wrapped his arms around her waist like last night. “I think I’m starting to feel the same way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading
> 
> Cheers


	13. Thirteen

They stood together out on the balcony of the King’s bedroom. Robert was sleeping in his tent down at the Tourney Grounds after being too drunk to make the trip back up to the Red-Keep. The King was otherwise occupied with food, wine, and women, not that either of them minded. Jaime would take every second he could have with her alone and call it a blessing. The air was starting to get a bit heavier, and the coastal breeze that blew in from the east felt like it was bringing rain.

She was wearing nothing but the golden silk sheets from the bed, and she pulled them closer to her as the breeze brushed against her soft skin. “I can’t stop it,” Cersei said bitterly, leaning her frame over the balcony that overlooked the city below. From the King’s bedroom, the entire city of King’s Landing could be seen and far off into the Crownlands. Burning by the riverside were the many fires roaring of the feast still raging on into the night besides the tourney grounds

She was being quiet and sullen tonight, which was unlike her. Only in her moments of doubt would she brood like this. They both knew the consequences of their actions. But that could never stop them from loving one another. Was it a crime to fall in love with his sister? If the gods frowned upon it so much, why did they allow it to happen? The Targaryens wed brother to sister for generations, why was it so wrong for them to desire the same thing? Robert didn’t care about Cersei, he never did. Every chance he got their noble King would take the opportunity to insult the Queen by sticking his cock into everything that moved. The Whoremonger King, The Usurper King, that’s who Robert was. He was a man who would rather hunt and whore than rule his Kingdom. A man who would beggar the realm to quench his own appetite. How does a King like that inspire any sort of loyalty? The Seven Kingdoms would’ve been a better place if Robert had died that day on the Trident. If only he had been there with Rhegar, if only he could have saved…. No, he couldn’t swim in those waters. Despair was only a pit if he allowed it to swallow him. He would not let it swallow him, and he would not let it swallow Cersei.

“So what? Ned Stark doesn’t know anything about us.” Even as he said the words to her, he knew it was only a matter of time before he did. Pycelle echoed words of Ned Stark retracing the steps of the late Lord of the Vale, Jon Arryn. If the wolf continued to follow the falcon’s blood trail, it would lead him straight into the lion’s jaws. But he wouldn’t allow himself to show fear in front of Cersei. If he did, her fears would only multiply.

“Pycelle says that Jon Arryn either learned the truth or was close to it before he died. If that old man found out, it’s only a matter of time before Eddard Stark does,” Cersei said turning to him a bit fearfully. “And when he does he will...”

 “If he finds out, I will kill him,” Jaime said fiercely. He then gripped her shoulders and looked into her emerald eyes trying to keep her will intact. He would not let her falter.

“And what of my husband? Do you think he will just let you? Robert loves his precious Ned more than he loves his own brothers,” Cersei said.

Jaime reached out to her and pulled her against his chest and kissed her on the top of her head. “I’ll go to war with him if I have to. Him and anyone else who would stand between us. Ned Stark, Mace Tyrell, Renly, Stannis, I will kill them all if they try to keep us apart,” Jaime said firmly.

Cersei wriggled free from his embrace pulling the blankets tighter around her so she was covered completely. “If you want to help, then you should be helping me figure out a way to stop this wedding. Lord Stark is gaining too much influence in the capital, and by the time he finds out he will be able to out maneuver us through sheer luck. But, instead of helping me, you’re too busy getting your nose broken by a child,” Cersei said scornfully.

Jaime reached out to grab her again. She fought against him slightly but he wouldn’t let her go, he would never let her go. She relaxed her body and moved further into his embrace. He lifted her head up by cradling her chin in his hands. “I am way ahead of you, sister,” Jaime said with a wicked smile. Her emerald eyes searched his for a moment before a wicked smiled of her own starting to creep across her beautiful face. He then leaned in and captured her lips in a searing kiss and she let her golden blankets fall to the floor.

 

* * *

 

He woke up to the sound of thunder clattering in the far distance. He picked his head up off the pillow and heard a light thumping on top of his tent. Robb got up from his bed and drank down a glass of water from his nightstand to quench his dry mouth. After wiping his mouth clean, he made to dress into his dark leathers and boots. Robb decided to sleep in his tent last night rather than go all the way back up to the Tower. It seemed senseless to do so since his armor was here, and he would be jousting again today. Grey Wind was still sound asleep resting at the bottom of his bed. It was a good thing it was a King sized bed, anything smaller and Grey Wind wouldn’t be able to fit. And even still, he barely did so.

Robb petted Grey Wind lightly behind his ears to wake him up. The direwolf yawned and stretched his legs out before looking at him and getting off the bed. Robb put on his dark grey cloak lined with wolf fur at the shoulders and walked to the exit. He pushed past the curtain wall to see how bad the rain was coming down. Just outside of his tent stood Harwin and Alyn, two of father’s household guardsmen who stood vigil on guard duty. They were both outside, but the overhanging cloth of the tent was enough to keep them both from getting rained on. “How’s it look?” Robb asked stepping out to stand between the two guardsmen.

The two men turned back to him eyeing him with respect. “It’s starting to slow down now, my lord. It was only heavy for about an hour. The worst of it has moved on. The Tournament should still be on,” Harwin told him.

“That’s good,” Robb answered. It was still morning, and the Tournament wouldn’t start again until midday sun. The rain did seem to be steadily slowing down, if it remained at this pace, then the Tourney grounds shouldn’t be too wet. “Do you know if Theon returned to his tent?” Robb asked gesturing over to the right. Theon’s tent was set up right next to his, but Robb had gone to bed before he heard Theon come back.

Alyn and Harwin both gave each other a look of annoyance before they both nodded their heads. “Aye, he made it back…”

“Good,” Robb answered. He put his hood up and stepped out into the light rain with Harwin, Alyn and Grey Wind following behind. The ground was damp and it made his boots slightly muddy, but give it a few hours and it should be dry enough to compete in. Outside of Theon’s tent were two men in ringmail and dark red boiled leather atop. The leaping trout of House Tully was blazoned on their leathers. Theon did say he was going with Edmure last night. _They must have gotten on well then if Edmure gave Theon two of his guardsmen_.  Robb turned to Harwin and Alyn telling them to wait outside while he got Theon up.

Robb gave a respectful nod of the head to both Tully guardsmen as they stepped aside allowing him entry. When he pushed past the curtain wall of Theon’s tent he rolled his eyes a what he found. Inside was something out of a bachelor’s fantasy. Theon was passed out completely naked on top of his bed. He was cushioned between two very attractive girls who were just as naked as he was. A girl with blonde hair was laying on her side with an arm wrapped around Theon’s torso, while the other brunette haired girl was laying on her stomach. Her head was positioned at the foot of the bed, as Theon used her butt as a pillow. Trays of spilled wine goblets and half eaten fruits and sweets littered the floor, and even though it was raining outside, the very room reeked of sweat and alcohol.

_Seven Hells. Talk about a party._ Robb turned back to Grey Wind who had accompanied him inside and silently nodded his head to him.

Grey Wind sat up straight and howled loudly into the morning air. “Rise and shine everyone. It’s time to wake up,” Robb said while clapping his hands with a playful enthusiasm.

Theon and the girls in the bed groggily sat up and looked at him with squinted eyes before catching site Grey Wind. The blonde girl shrieked at the site of the direwolf and moved her whole body towards the head of the bed, hiding behind Theon for protection. Theon groaned awake and lifted his head off of the other girl’s backside.  “Stark? Is that you? Don’t talk so loudly, my head feels like it got dropped on an anchor,” Theon said rubbing his face in his hands. Theon lazily sat up by the pillows and put his arm around the blonde girl to calm her down.

“The Tournament will start again in a few hours, Theon. I need your help to…” Robb started to say but his voice trailed off when the naked brunette stood up and began walking towards him. She strode towards him confidently, completely unfazed by the large direwolf beside him. She seemed fully unabashed by her full nakedness and wore a seductive smile on her lips as she closed the distance between them.

 “The stories are all true about you, Lord Stark. Handsome, strong, gorgeous blue eyes, a direwolf companion. I heard many tales of your victories yesterday, milord. I had hoped I would get the chance to meet you, and maybe we could…get to know….one another,” she purred moving enticingly closer to him. 

Robb did his best to keep eye contact with her, but the woman was strikingly beautiful. She had a sculpted figure shaped like an hourglass. Her eyes shined like glittering gemstones and her dark eyelashes fluttered at him with an innocence that begged to be taken away. She took another step closer, and Robb could smell her lilac perfume. With her close proximity and ample naked bosom now directly in front of him, it made thinking clearly become extremely difficult.  “That’s Sapphire, Robb. I think she likes you,” Theon said with a grin.

“Very much so, my lord. Do you like me? Would you like to play with me?” The girl asked, her voice sugary sweet, but her grin was anything but. She smiled at him like a woman possessed by lust. She moved so close to him that she was practically in his arms. Taking his hand into her own, she moved it so he was touching her bare breast.  His breath left him in a low husky rush, and he squeezed tenderly on the soft milky flesh while his mind started to go numb with desire. _It would be so easy to…_

“There you go, Robb, finally,” Theon said approvingly. “You can do whatever you want to her. She’s bought and paid for. Usually, Littlefinger doesn’t let this one do house calls. But Tyrion Lannister gave us the coin for her. I would’ve paid for it myself with my winnings, but I’m not going to turn down free gold. I had a nice time with that little half-man last night. Surprisingly, not every Lannister is a cunt after all,” Theon said with some amusement.

Sapphire leaned her face in close to him intending to capture his lips in a kiss. Robb could already taste the strawberry scent on her lips and found himself giving in to his desire when he heard the name Lannister ring out from Theon’s mouth. Quickly, Robb shook himself out of the sudden fog of desire he was currently swimming in. He just as quickly took his hands off the girl in front of him and turned his head away at the last minute. The woman’s lips failing to hit its target, landing harmlessly on his cheek. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I am promised to another,” Robb said taking a few steps back from her, quickly regaining his composure. He silently growled in anger at himself for losing his focus so easily at the sight of a beautiful woman. _She was sent here by Tyrion Lannister. She could be a spy._

The sapphire eyed brunette pouted her lips in a sultry way, and she took another step closer to him trying to erase the distance he had just created between them. “I won’t tell lady Tyrell if you don’t, my lord. It can be our little secret,” she said seductively reaching her hands out to touch his leather trousers. But Robb sidestepped and caught her arm with his hand. “I said no. I will not dishonor my betrothed,” Robb said firmly.

Theon then laughed loudly from the head of the bed. “See, I told you he wouldn’t bite. You’re wasting your time with him, Sapphire. He’s already in _love_ ,” Theon said with a mocking tone of voice.

Sapphire’s face twisted slightly in disappointment at being refused by Robb. “As you wish, Lord Stark,” she said before sauntering back over to Theon on the bed. She crawled over to him on her hands and knees arching her arse in the air as if she were taunting Robb with it. She moved her body on top of Theon and started to trail kisses up along his abs and chest, while the blonde continued nibbling on Theon’s neck and lips.

“Theon, when you're done… meet me in my tent so we can talk privately.”

“Right, just give me an hour… or two,” Theon said with a grin.

Robb quickly left before things got too steamy. He went back to his tent and waited for Theon to finish. He took the opportunity to eat something. It wouldn’t be good to take on his opponents today on an empty stomach. On a table in his room were a basket of assorted fruits and fresh baked bread. The fruits on his tray were of those he couldn’t normally get in Winterfell. Oranges, Grapefruits, and Mangos were his three new favorites. He ate silently and cut a piece of the grapefruit for Grey Wind to try. The direwolf smelt it once before turning his nose away at it. Grey Wind was too busy gnawing on a piece of an auroch’s femur from last night’s feast to care about some red juice fruit.

As he ate, Robb could hear more and more people wake up from their tents getting ready for the day’s events. Robb was starting to grow more nervous the longer Theon took with the girls. If they were truly spies for Tyrion Lannister, then he didn’t want Theon spending any more time with them than he needed to.

It was about an hour and a half after Robb finished his breakfast did Theon make his way into his tent. “I’m here Robb. What did you want to talk about?” Theon said, casually walking into the tent while taking a crunching bite out of a red apple.

“Did you have fun?” Robb asked with slight annoyance.

“You saw what those two looked like, what do you think?” Theon answered with a cocky grin taking another crunch out of his apple. “It’s too bad you didn’t join in with us. Sapphire really wanted you.” 

“She’ll get over it. Did they go?”

“They’re gone; the Tully guardsmen are escorting them back to the city. That’s the thing most people don’t get about whores. You don’t pay for the sex; you pay them so that they leave,” Theon finished with an arrogant laugh lounging his legs out as he took a seat on the edge of Robb’s bed. Theon’s face quickly changed from amusement to confusion as he studied Robb’s face closer. “Seven hells, Robb. What happened to your face?” Theon said gesturing to Robb’s cheek.  Apparently, two women clawing all over him was enough to distract Theon from the slash at his cheek.

“I’ll tell you once you tell me what you and Tyron Lannister talked about last night,” Robb said eyeing Theon carefully.

“Not much,” Theon said nonchalantly looking away in another direction. Robb narrowed his eyes at him. Somehow he didn’t believe him. They had to talk about something if he the imp had made a positive impression. Theon looked at him and noticed his expression and let out a sigh of dissatisfaction. “Alright fine, we talked about my service to your family. He asked when Lord Stark might release me from his service.”

Robb gave him a perturbed look.  “What did you say?”

“I told him that’s not up to me to decide….But,I  have to admit, he did bring up some good points. He had me thinking a lot about it last night actually.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve been in service to your family since I was ten years old. I’m twenty-three now, Robb. How much longer do you think your father will make me serve your house?”

“Where did this come from? I thought you enjoyed living in Winterfell?” Robb asked confused.

Theon stood to his feet and began pacing back and forth with an almost puzzled expression on his face. He seemed utterly lost in what he was trying to say. “I do, don’t get me wrong. I understand why am in service to your father, and your family has only ever treated me with honor. I’m not trying to sound resentful…I just…” Theon stopped pacing and looked him right in the eyes. “I know we’re friends, brothers even, that’s never going to change. But the Kingdoms aren’t at war. My father wouldn’t start another one after being crushed by King Robert. As much as I have enjoyed being with you and your family, the North isn’t my home, I’m iron born. Can you really blame me for having a desire to go home and taking my rightful place as heir to Pyke and the Iron Islands?”

Robb eyed Theon for a moment thinking of something to say, but only ended up looking down at the floor. No, he couldn’t blame Theon for wanting to go back to the Iron Islands. He always knew Theon would eventually sail back to Pyke at some point, but he never really thought about what might happen once he actually did leave. Robb doubted Balon Greyjoy would go to war again once Theon returned, he learned what happened the last time he rebelled against the Iron Throne. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t still resentful about having to bend the knee. Did his father intend to keep Theon in Winterfell until it was time for him to actually assume the role as Lord Paramount of the Iron Islands? Perhaps he did, perhaps that was the only way to bring back an honorable man for the Iron Islanders to follow. But how could his father expect Theon to rule the Iron Islands effectively if he never got the chance to get to know his own lands and people at all beforehand?

Theon let out a frustrated sigh and tossed his apple core with the other eaten fruits from Robb’s own breakfast. “Let’s just drop it. The decision is not up to you or me. I’m fine with the way things are for the time being. I would just like to have some idea of when I will actually get to go home,” Theon finished.

Just then the curtain entrance to his tent flew open with Alyn walking inside. “Forgive me, my lord. But they just announced that the Tournament will be beginning again soon.”

Robb stood to his feet and nodded at him. “Right,” he said before eyeing his direwolf armor on the armor stand beside his bed.

“I’ll help you into your armor while you tell me how that happened,” Theon said gesturing to the slash on Robb’s cheek.

Robb groaned inwardly again when thoughts of last night came into his mind. But it wasn’t the wound on his face that hurt, it was watching Joffrey treat his sister that way which made him burn with anger. Robb told Theon about the events of last night as he helped him into his armor.

“And you just stood there? Why didn’t you put him in his place? You could’ve easily beaten that little shit in a fight,” Theon said as he placed his shoulder guard on.

“And what would that have accomplished? If I injured the crown prince in a sword fight who knows what would have happened to me,” Robb stated. If he’s learned anything in these last few days, it’s that acting rashly on account of instinct wasn’t the smartest move to make in King’s Landing. He acted rashly at dinner with Lord Tyrell and caused his father grievance. He punched the Kingslayer in front of the entire court and caused even more trouble. If he then injured the crown prince the following night, it would only prove to his father that he couldn’t control himself.

“It’s better than doing nothing and looking weak. You could have explained what happened to your father and to the King. Sansa and Margaery were there too. They would’ve backed you,” Theon said.

“I didn’t want to have to put them in that position. Joffrey could have gone and spun whatever story he liked to his father, and I know the Queen is just looking for an excuse to do something to me after the other night. She would take his side no matter what. The last time a Stark was dragged before King Robert about an incident with prince Joffrey a direwolf was put to the sword,” Robb said. “It’s over, it’s best for everyone to just move on. I told my father about what happened last night. He said he would handle it.” Theon gave him a look of displeasure and showed it by shoving his other shoulder guard on a bit more roughly than the last one.

Robb let out a frustrated sigh of his own. “I’m going to marry Margaery in a fortnight, and by that time Joffrey will leave for Casterly Rock. I can take a hit in meantime, Theon. A little scratch to the face won’t put me on my deathbed.”

Theon didn’t seem to find his reasoning all that persuasive. He then, just as roughly, began shaking and patting his shoulder guards and chest plate making sure all was secure. Robb moved his arms and twisted his torso back and forth to get a feel for the weight of it again. He had worn it for the first time yesterday, and he was still getting used to the feel of it. “At least you’ll get to take out your aggression on your opposition. You can show the entire city of King’s Lading what happens when they cross House Stark,” Theon said before handing him his helmet. Robb took the offered helmet and looked at the direwolf helm in his hands. The metalwork of the helm truly was a piece of art. The only openings were at the wolf’s eyes and underneath the nostrils so he could see and breathe easier. “On that, we can agree,” Robb said as he placed it over his head. “It’s time to hunt.”

* * *

 

The Tournament began again at noon. The rain had all but stopped, leaving only a light misty drizzle in the atmosphere.  The clear blue sky of yesterday was replaced by a large thick wall of grey that encompassed the heavens above.  The rain didn’t do anything to deter the crowd in the slightest, however. The common folk came out with renewed vigor by the thousands. The sound of their voices rattled in his ears the closer he got to the track. The nobility returned as well, only today large tapestries of red and gold were put up over the stands to protect them in the chance of heavier rain. 

The herald and trumpeters announced each rider individually so they could pay their respects to the King before the beginning of the tilts. Robb eyed the stands as he rode out on his armored warhorse. His family was seated in the same place as yesterday next to the Tyrells. Only this time Sansa was seated next to father on the other side of Mace Tyrell, and away from Joffrey. Father would most likely keep Sansa away from Prince Joffrey for the foreseeable future after last night. Bran and Arya both sat in the stands next to Sansa and clapped for him as he made his way by.

Robb looked down slightly at his left arm where Margaery’s teal cloth was still tied around him.  She sat sandwiched between her father and brother. She moved a few strands of her long brown hair out of her face from the breeze. He winked an eye at her through his helmet as he trotted by, and she smiled brightly at him in return. He remembered her blossom soft lips by the riverside and the rush of excitement that she sent through his entire body by such a simple act. Seeing her shining smile directed at him made him feel extremely guilty for having his hands on another woman this very morning. He had already come to the conclusion he would name her the Queen of Love and Beauty once he won. But he couldn’t focus on any of that now, he had to focus his current opponent.

Once respects to the King and Queen were made by each rider, Robb took his place at the end of the track. Across the track stood his enormous opponent. It was one thing to hear about how big a man Ser Gregor Clegane was, but now standing opposite him, was something else entirely.

Ser Gregor Clegane was a towering seven-foot structure of thick black plate. His black helmet obscured his facial visage and held only the narrowest of slits for vision. His body was so massive that it made the horse he rode upon look a pony between his legs. Ser Gregor Clegane was the most intimidating man Robb had ever seen. He thanked the gods that they were only using tourney lances. Otherwise, this would most likely have an outcome he would not enjoy very much.  Theon then came up beside him holding out a lance for him to take. “Hit em’ hard,” Theon said. Robb nodded down to him and took the offered lance.

The was crowd was now reverberating with anticipation. Their sounds made his nostrils flare with eagerness, and he could feel his entire body start to tingle. The mist of the rain collected on his helmet and leaked down onto his face through the tiny holes. He blinked the water out of his eyes and gave a quick glance to the stands. Bran and Arya were at the edge of their seats, while Sansa was covering her eyes and had her face buried in father’s chest. Robb turned back to his dark armored opponent with a hungry smirk on his face. _Let’s rumble big boy._

With a single blast, the horn sounded and he was off like a shot of lighting. His horse rampaged through the damp dirt like a charging rhinoceros. The Mountain came closer and closer into view, and Robb lined up his lance trying to perfectly aim his thrust. The Mountain was large and powerful, but his large frame also served as an equally large target area. When they met in the center, Robb’s lance danced past a shield and shattered on his opponent’s chest plate. The Mountain’s lance in turn barely touched him. Robb had expertly shifted in his saddle on the second before impact, causing the Mountain’s lance to just graze off his shoulder guard in a sound of scrapping metal.

However, Robb’s blow had little to no effect on the Mountain. Ser Gregor rode back to the other side of the track completely unfazed. Robb snarled slightly while taking another lance offered to him, and he pulled his horse around ready to charge again. This time, he urged his horse to move faster. “Run!” he commanded, using leg signals to lengthen the horse’s strides he forced his horse forward harshly. It was risky, putting more emphasis on the horse’s speed meant putting less focus into aiming up his lance the whole way, but he had to create more power if he wanted to unhorse the leviathan across from him.

He dashed forward across the damp dirt and came upon Ser Gregor again with a sound of shattering timber. Robb could feel his lance make contact with something, but he couldn’t tell how effective it was because the Mountain hit him so hard in the chest that it felt like his lungs had collapsed. Suddenly Robb’s whole body swung back on his horse from the momentum of the hit, and it forced him to look up at the sky. He desperately tried to breathe for air but was completely unable to suck anything in.

Somehow, he was able to hold onto his horse's reins and make back to the other side of the track. When he was finally able to catch some oxygen, he looked at the lance in his hand and found it shattered to its base. _Seven hells. He hits like a fucking battering ram._ That blow was going to leave a mark for sure. Robb took a fresh lance from Theon again and looked back at the Mountain. He truly earned his name, two broken lances directly on the man’s chest did absolutely nothing to him, while only one blow from the Mountain rocked him to his core. Robb couldn’t win this way. He had to go for the head if he wanted to topple the monster, and he couldn’t withstand another hit like that. The head was a harder and much smaller target to hit, but moving the Mountain off his horse any other way was utterly impossible.

The roar of crowd sung in his ears, and his chest stung like a bad bee sting, but, he silently reveled in the feeling. Strangely, the pain felt good. He bit down hard on the inside of his lower lip until he tasted blood. The combination of tasting his own blood and sweat with the cool mist in the air awoke something primal within him. He gritted his teeth, and with another hungry grin, he charged. Adrenaline flooded through his veins like a torrent of rushing water. The feeling was so profound that it brought his focus to a zenith. The crowd muted in his ears, the pounding of his horse’s hooves were fading drumbeats that drowned out until the only thing he heard was his own heartbeat.

With everything he had, he thrust at The Mountain’s head hearing a loud crunch as his lance made contact with its target. In a crash, the Mountain’s helmet flew off of him and the goliath and his horse toppled to ground in an avalanche of black armor and limbs. The crowd boomed with applause as Robb stood triumphant. He reared his horse and raised his broken lance high in victory. But as soon as he did so, he quickly regretted it. Drunk on adrenaline, he had failed at feeling the tip of The Mountain’s lance pierce his skin. The wood penetrated through the tiny opening under the armpit where the plate wasn’t protecting. Rapidly, adrenaline left his system giving way to a sharp shooting pain now emanating out from under his arm.

Unable to suppress it, he let a thick groan of pain escape from deep within his throat. Blood now leaked from under his arm down into his gauntlet, and he could feel his cloth shirt underneath begin to soak with the bloody liquid. _Fuck…_

 He couldn’t let himself show that he was too hurt in front of the entire audience. He rode up to the King and bowed his head to him as stoically as he could before taking a quick exit. He kept his head up and his eyes in front as he rode past the stands, completely missing the looks of worry from his family and a certain brown eyed brunette.

 

* * *

 

Bran couldn’t wait to see all of the excitement that the day held. He was disappointed about having to go to bed early last night. After his first night outside of the city, father had barely let him stay up past sunset. As he lied awake on his bed last night; he replayed the events of the day in his mind. Robb had defeated so many riders that Bran had lost count. Seeing his brother do so well in the lists made Bran antsy to start his training with Ser Barristan. He couldn’t wait until he was old enough to enter himself.

When Ser Loras was clasped with the white cloak of the Kingsguard, Bran looked on with a strange sensation of happiness and envy. He liked Ser Loras, and lady Margaery and the rest of the Tyrells for that matter. They all seemed really nice. Ser Loras was handsome, gallant, brave, everything a Kingsguard should be. He would be proud to one day be in the sworn brotherhood alongside him. But it was the waiting that was killing him. Bran wished he could just fast forward until he was old enough to don the white cloak himself.

Bran was seated between Arya and Sansa as Robb took the field. Although, he wasn’t sitting for all that long. As soon as Robb made his way onto the track, Bran couldn’t contain his excitement. Bran believed Robb would take home the championship. In Winterfell, Jon was better with the sword, but Robb was better with the lance.

Behind them, in the stands, the nobility all talked amongst themselves as the two riders took their positions. “A hundred gold dragons on the Mountain,” Littlefinger called out from his seat directly behind Sansa. Bran turned around towards the short slender man with a glare. Littlefinger had placed many bets on riders yesterday, and he never lost once.

“I’ll take that bet,” Renly Baratheon stated. “I think the young wolf is looking for some blood today.”

“No doubt, but are you certain the mountain can bleed?” Littlefinger retorted back dryly. Bran wasn’t quite sure what they meant by that. _Why would Robb be looking for blood?_

Bran turned towards Sansa who had her entire face buried in father’s chest. Sansa was being surprisingly quiet today. Usually, she would go on and on about something whether it be gossip about some lord or lady or dresses or prince Joffrey, but not today. Today she seemed different since dawn, she seemed almost… sad. “You’re going to miss the whole thing, Sansa,” Bran said trying to get her to pick her head up.

“I can’t watch. He could get hurt,” Sansa said with a muffled voice not pulling her eyes away from the safety of father’s chest. Bran turned back to Arya who only rolled her eyes at their sister’s behavior.

But, her fear wasn’t entirely unwarranted. Bran had seen big men before, King Robert was over six feet, as was the Hound. Back in Winterfell, the stableboy Hodor was seven feet tall and larger than both of them. But, the Mountain towered over them all.  Ser Gregor Clegane was over seven feet tall, closer to eight, with massive shoulders and arms as thick as small trees. His black armored destrier seemed a pony between his legs.

Bran involuntarily swallowed a lump in his throat as Robb took a lance offered to him by Theon. Robb wore a long grey cape and sat upon a brown thoroughbred warhorse. The horse wore a blanket of gilded ringmail, and Robb’s new armor covered him in silver from head to heel. The armor made it look like he belonged. But, he still was dwarfed by the sheer size of Ser Gregor Clegane.

The horn sounded, and the gallery trembled as the horses broke into a gallop. Bran leaned forward on the edge of his seat overcome with a strange combination of nervousness and uncontained excitement.  Robb hit him square in the chest on the first pass. The commons cheered, but the Mountain rode on unfazed by the hit. On the next pass, the Mountain’s wood shattered upon contact with Robb’s chest. Bran gasped with the crowd as Robb’s body looked to bend in half by the impact. His body flailing like a fish on top of his horse but his left hand never let go of the horse’s reigns. Robb resettled on his horse and took a fresh lance from Theon again. When the two opponents met in the middle again, Robb’s lance struck the Mountain’s head in a ferocious smash that sent the giant crashing down to the mud black and broken.

Bran jumped up from his seat and yelled “Yes!! Sansa! He won! You missed the whole thing!” Bran exclaimed while jumping up and down. Sansa ventured a peek out from its hiding place when the roar of the crowd chanted out the Stark name. But when she caught sight of him, she yelped with fear. Suddenly, a loud gasp collected throughout the stands. Confused, Bran followed her gaze and noticed the blood now dripping down Robb’s arm.

Robb rode up to the King bowing his head before departing the track with his head held high. If the wound bothered him at all, he didn’t show it. Bran turned back to father and noticed lady Margaery was still on her feet watching Robb disappear off the track with fear written all over her face.

“Robb will be alright; won’t he father?” Bran asked hurriedly. Father watched Robb leave the track with the rest of the audience. A crease of worry lined his usual fearless gaze. “The Tournament Maester will examine him and deem if he is still fit to compete.”

“What happens if he can’t continue?”

“Then he will forfeit the championship match to whoever wins between Ser Loras and Ser Jaime.” Bran swallowed again, he hoped Robb would be fine. The maester could fix him, and then he would win, that’s what will happen. At least that’s what Bran told himself.

“What ought I spend your money on?” Renly said boastfully up to Littlefinger behind him. Renly sat beside Ser Garlan Tyrell. He was leaning his head back in the stands eyeing Littlefinger with a glib smile after winning the bet. Littlefinger only quirked his face with a sideways smirk in response.

The trumpeters then announced the beginning of the next match. “Double or nothing on the Kingslayer,” Littlefinger announced loudly as Jaime Lannister entered the lists, riding an elegant white destrier. The horse wore a red velvet blanket with a sheet of golden gilded ringmail overtop. Instead of his white armor of the Kingsguard, Jaime wore a beautiful armor set of gold with a ferocious lion’s head helm. He tossed a kiss to some woman in the audience and took his position.

“Done,” Renly stated. “I’ll be looking forward to watching Ser Loras defeat the Kingslayer, yet again.” Ser Loras then entered looking just as marvelous as his opponent. A murmur of swooning women ran through the crowd as the King of Flowers trotted across the track. He rode a beautiful grey mare slender of size, built for speed. Ser Loras donned his white armor of the Kingsguard that was polished to a blinding sheen even through the shroud of mist. Although instead of the white cape, he wore a long green cloak in the colors of his house. It was spun with a hundred flowers, real ones, hundreds of fresh roses were woven into the long flowing green cape, and his long brown hair streamed like silk in the wind.

“A sure bet, Lord Renly. No one will be able to prevail against my son,” Mace Tyrell proclaimed proudly.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, my lords.” Tyrion Lannister quipped in. “Anyone foolish enough wager coin against my brother I’d be happy to oblige him.” The imp was seated in the same place as yesterday, directly behind father.

“Very good then. I’ll win twice as much,” Renly stated turning back to the track.

On his way by, Ser Loras nodded up to Bran with a smile and handed red roses to Arya and Sansa before placing a golden rose in lady Margery’s outstretched hand.

The riders took their places after bowing to King Robert. Ser Loras equipped his helm and lance from his squire and prepared to charge. In an instant, the horn sounded and they were off. The two knights of the Kingsguard galloped towards each other at blinding speed. Jaime rode hard, his lance steady and precise. Ser Loras rode faster, relying heavily on the speed of his horse. When they met in the center, Jaime shifted in his seat on the second before impact. Tyrell’s lance was turned harmlessly away against the golden shield with the lion blazon, while Jaime’s hit was square and true.

Bran’s eyes widened and a ragged breath rung out through the crowd as Ser Loras fought to keep his seat. Bran jumped up with a loud cheer when he was able to hold on. Jaime Lannister tossed down his broken lance and took a fresh one, jesting with his squire as he did so. Ser Loras turned his horse around and charged hard into a gallop. When they met again, both lances shattered against the other’s shield knocking both riders for a loop but both were able to hold on. Both riders took fresh lances and charged again. When they met in the center both lances exploded, and by the time the splinters landed on the floor, Ser Loras was crashing to the ground without his helmet. His cape of flowers returning to the dirt in heap of petals.

The crowd gasped, none being louder than Sansa and Margaery. Ser Loras laid in the damp dirt motionless for a long tense moment. He was unresponsive for a few minutes until he let out a loud muffled groan with his face still kissing the mud. Ser Garlan jumped over the railing of the stands and landed down on the track rushing to inspect his younger brother with the squire. The crowd looked on in concern as Ser Loras’s face was lifted from the dirt. The Knight of Flower’s face was covered in mud, and his eyes kept opening and closing as if he had no idea where he was. Eventually, Loras was able to stand to his feet with the help of his squire and older brother. As Ser Loras was being helped off the track, Jamie Lannister began doing victory laps around him in a not so chivalrous way.  The gallery all began squawking amongst themselves as they waited for the final match. Bran turned back to where the tents of the competitors were, wondering along with everyone else if Robb would return to the track.

“Now, Lord Renly. What ought I spend your money on?” Littlefinger said glibly, causing Margaery to turn and eye Littlefinger with barely repressed anger.

 

* * *

 

 

He staggered back into his tent having to be helped by Theon and Harwin. Every step he took hurt and even the slightest of movements pushed the wood further and further into his skin. Once inside, he took a seat on the edge of his bed and let out another grunt of discomfort. “Let’s have a look at it,” Theon said quickly. Robb lifted his arm up as best he could but moving it at all felt like lifting a giant boulder off the ground. Theon’s face grimaced harshly when he got a clean look at it. “Shit, that’s really in there Robb.”

“No fuck!” Robb answered with a growl.

“I’d like to pull it out, but you might just lose more blood in the process. I’m no medical expert. The Maester should be here any…” Theon said just as the curtain wall to the tent flew open again. Rushing into his tent were Alyn and a thin middle aged man with black mutton chops and a thick mustache. He wore a plain grey cloak and carried a large leather satchel over his shoulder. Around his neck was Maester’s chain made of several different metals including, black iron, brass, copper, lead, pewter and silver. Silver was the only one Robb cared about at the moment. He knew that at least meant the man was trained in medicine.

“I’m Maester Lucas, my Lord. I’m going to need your permission to operate before I begin.” Robb gave him an annoyed look and quickly nodded his head. _Fucking hell. I’m bleeding out and he’s asking my bloody permission._ Immediately, Harwin and Alyn began helping him out of his armor and tore off his cloth undershirt so the Maester could access the wound easier. “My lord, I’m going to remove the object. Then I will then need to clean any infected tissue.”

Robb nodded his head quickly at the Maester. Carefully, the Maester removed the large piece of wood jutting out from under his arm. Feeling the wood twist and scrap against his soft flesh made him cringe hard and close his eyes in pain. When the wood was out, the Maester passed it over to Theon. Harwin and Alyn then both pressed down firmly on his wound to keep the blood from pooling out too quickly.

The Maester came back over with a cloth dripping with some form of liquid. “I’m going to treat you with Myrish fire, my lord…. This is going to sting a little, but it will….”

“Just get on with it!” Robb commanded. The pain coursing through his arm was too much for him to be polite right now. Alyn gave him a piece of a leather strap to bite down on as the maester applied the cloth. Robb closed his eyes so tightly as the Maester pressed down that he could swear he saw sparks of embers flying around in the void of blackness. It felt like molten magma was being poured directly onto his wounded flesh, and all he could do was grit and bear it.

The Maester eventually lifted the cloth away from his wound after it was coated in enough of his blood, but it didn’t do much to stop the burning sensation. Maester Lucas went back over to his leather satchel and poured some of the same fire liquid on a pair of sharp silver tweezers. “You still have some splinters in there, my Lord. I’m going to need to remove them before I can sew up your wound.”

“Do what you need to, Maester.”

“I don’t think you should go back out there, Robb. You’re only going to injure yourself further. You already won the second place prize. You will still walk away with twenty-thousand gold dragons no matter what,” Theon said as he paced back and forth inside the room with a concerned look on his face. Robb picked his head up and let an ethereal laugh escape his throat at feeling the sharp tweezers start to pick into his wounded flesh. One by one the maester began poking pulling and taking out one tiny splinter after another before placing them on a pewter plate that Alyn held in his hands. “Theon Greyjoy, being cautious. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry,” Robb said through a panting laugh and searing moist eyes.

“He’s right, my Lord. There’s no need for you to continue in your condition. Just take the runner-up prize and be on your way. There’s nothing you need to prove to anyone,” Harwin argued.

The last piece of splinter was removed and the Maester went back to his satchel pulling out a long sharp needle and string. “I have to agree with them, my Lord. I can stitch it up as best I can, but what you really need is rest and some milk of the poppy for the pain. I can make a poultice out of the calendula herb to help with the healing while you sleep. I can’t under good conscious recommend you to go back out there, my Lord.”

Robb looked up at all of them through gritted teeth as the needle pierced his skin. They were probably right, at this point, he would only injure himself further. It would be weeks before he fully recovered. He would have a hard enough time winning the championship fully healthy, but facing either Jaime or Loras injured was a crippling handicap. Hopefully, Loras would win and make the decision easy for him. Conceding to Ser Loras wouldn’t be a very difficult thing to do. “Very well, I’ll concede the…” They all turned their heads when they heard the crowd cheer out Ser Jaime Lannister’s name.

Robb’s gazed hardened and felt a stirring of anger begin to burn within him at hearing the crowd chant “Lannister”. Imagining the Kingslayer trotting around the track with that wicked smile, long blonde hair, and golden armor making all the women swoon made all thoughts of conceding fly from his mind.

“Maester, hurry up…” Robb said firmly.

“My Lord, you shouldn’t…”

A fire abruptly lit in his stomach, and the only way to put it out was to unleash its flames on the Kingslayer. Robb sat up straighter and in a strong voice spoke. “I’m putting him into the ground.”

 

* * *

 

 

He rode back towards the track on his armored warhorse. In the distance, he could hear the King’s voice bellow out into the air. “In light of Robb Stark’s absence,” King Robert’s voice rung out. _Damn, I’m late._ He kicked his horse into a canter in aim to get to the track before Jaime was named champion. In the far distance, Robb could make out the Kingslayer on his horse in front of the King and Queen. He was holding his helmet in one hand and waved to the crowd in the other. Jaime’s handsomely chiseled facial features and golden aura could be seen from a mile away. From this distance, Jaime Lannister looked like a statue carved out of pure golden marble. “I am forced to bestow…” The King’s voice trailed off when the crowd roared to their feet as Robb rode back out onto the track.

He could faintly see his family from the corner of his eyes, but Robb paid little to no attention to the crowd. He would not let that distract him from his target. His focus laid squarely on his opponent. On Robb’s way towards the track, he saw a very dazed and confused soot-faced Ser Loras Tyrell being helped into his own tent. The Knight of Flowers looked unable to walk under his own accord, and he didn’t even seem to know where he was at all. Seeing Jaime smile like that after what he did to Ser Loras and said about his own family made Robb’s anger only intensify. _I’m going to wipe that smile right off your face, Kingslayer._

Robb rode up beside the Kingslayer removing his helmet and bowing his head to pay respects to the King. “I was afraid you wouldn’t show, Stark. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to make good on my promise,” Jaime said in a low voice over the cheer of the crowd as they both waved and bowed to the King. “I wonder what lady Margaery will think once I put both her betrothed and brother into the dirt,” Jaime said, eyeing him with that wicked smile which now teetered more towards a menacing taunt. Robb’s nose twitched in anger before turning slightly to his opponent. “You talk too much, Kingslayer,” Robb said, before donning his helmet and riding back to take his position.

When both riders took their position, Theon came up to him holding out a lance for him to take. “Put more weight into your shield, and protect your arm as best you can. He’s not the mountain, he shouldn’t take as much strength to unhorse. But, he is the Kingslayer, don't expect him to forget that you’re injured,” Theon said up to him. Normally, chivalry would dictate that contenders avoid aiming for an opponent’s disadvantage during the jousts. There’s no honor in winning that way. But Jaime Lannister was a Kingslayer. All of his honor left him the day he killed the very king he was sworn to protect. Robb could only expect Jaime to ignore any unwritten rules of chivalry about these jousts.

Robb nodded down to Theon with a confident nod of the head taking the offered lance. The weight of the lance was much heavier than he remembered. It felt a little cumbersome and awkward now that his arm was wounded, but he could still grip it tightly.

The rain had stopped and the sun broke through the thick wall of clouds in the sky. Sunlight shined down and heated the atmosphere. With the cool mist gone, the heat returned bringing with it a thick humidity that Robb could taste in his mouth. The King then stood to his feet with a wide smile on his face before yelling, “Go on, hit each other!”

_Glady_. Robb kicked his horse hard into a full gallop. The wolf and the lion thundered toward each other in a rage that trampled the earth beneath them. The sun shined in his eyes off of the golden armor, but Robb’s focus was crystal clear. They met in the center in a crescendo of shattering wood as both lances collided cleanly on the other’s shield. He felt it again, that blood pumping adrenaline that brought everything into a keen focus. He could no longer feel the pain in his arm, the only thing he felt was fury. Back on his side of the track Robb looked across at the Kingslayer with a crazed grin. He took a fresh lance and charged again.

Robb lined up his lance zeroing in on his target. They met in the center in a crash, his lance hit Jaime square in the chest and the Kingslayer went reeling, flailing like a fish on top of his horse desperately fighting to keep his seat. However, Jaime had hit him as well, right where it hurt the most. Robb grunted deeply when the lion’s lance hit his wounded shoulder. Even the rush of adrenaline could not block out the sharp bite of pain at feeling his wound reopen. He could feel his cloth shirt begin filling with red liquid again, and his arm started going numb for a completely different reason other than adrenaline.

He got back to the other side of the track leaning forward on his horse and favoring his right side. Theon came up to him again holding out a fresh lance. “Robb…” Theon said up to him with a concerned look. “I’m fine,” Robb insisted firmly taking the lance with rough emphasis.  He took it again but the weight of it only intensified. The lance was so heavy that he could barely lift it. Robb gripped the lance hard and felt a trickle of sweat bead down his eyebrow. He kicked his horse forward and charged again to meet the Kingslayer in the middle. His undershirt was starting to soak in red liquid, and his vision slowly began to lose its focus. He had to end it now, he couldn’t withstand another hit, this would be his last pass. If he couldn’t unhorse Jaime here, he wouldn’t be able to continue.

Robb lined up his lance aiming for the lion’s helmet. If he could hit that, he would crumble the Kingslayer like he had the Mountain. The pain was unbearable but he willed himself past his normal danger zone into a new threshold of tolerance he never thought existed. They met in the center like colliding stars. Robb thrust out his lance with everything he had left, releasing all of his anger over the last few days into this one thrust. When his lance made contact with the Kingslayer, Robb suddenly felt the earth move beneath his feet. His stomach suddenly dropped out from under him and he felt himself freefall through the air before descending into a world of darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading
> 
> Cheers


End file.
